


Lavender and Ice (-is a dumb name for a gay ice skating fic)

by your_gay_cousin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji a lesbian??, Akaashi Keiji is Bad at Feelings, Akaashi Keiji listens to Hozier, Anxiety, Character Growth, Everyone Is Gay, Flower Language, Hinata is the "u got game on ur phone?" cousin, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Skating AU, Like we're getting the crockpot out type slow burn, M/M, Oikawa is the uncle that's been divorced five times, Perfectionism, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, Sugawara is a wine aunt, The pretty setter squad are all figure skaters now sorry, This may or may not be a self insert, This reads like a bad wattpad fic im so sorry, Yamaguchi is going through his own coffee shop au, angst but like...a light seasoning, background Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio - Freeform, background Iwaizumi Hajime/ Oikawa Tooru, background Kozume Kenma/ Kuroo Tetsurou, background Samawara Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, background Tsukishima Kei/ Yamaguchi Tadashi, because these boys are a little dense, but they're in LOVE your honor, crappy references to icarus, hockey captain bokuto koutarou, jen if ur reading this... no ur not, sum depression for spice, these tags sure are something, this was supposed to be around 20k long but you can see how that's going, wildly inaccurate depiction of figure skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 95,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_gay_cousin/pseuds/your_gay_cousin
Summary: Early mornings in the local ice rink were something precious to Akaashi. There, he could practice in solitude for a few hours... that is, until the day a certain yellow-eyed stranger decided to barge in- effectively turning Akaashi's stable routine on its head and causing an odd tightness in his chest.CH. TWENTY-TWO EXCERPT"Akaashi looked up from his skates, eyes catching on sterling silver and dimly illuminated gold. Even in the sleepy corner of the rink, Bokuto left him grasping dumbly for the right string of words to describe how his chest twisted every time he saw him. It was so stupidly cliche, the way Akaashi turned to gilded prose whenever Bokuto entered the scene, and it made him want to rip every flowery romance novel to pieces all on the grounds of false advertising.They had unfairly romanticized romance. The butterflies in his stomach were hornets, the blush on his face burned like a rash, and his sweating palms… were just gross. There was nothing romantic about this. And yet, the more Akaashi lost himself in this boy, the more he dared himself to dream- to entertain the countless what if’s that would never be."
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 167
Kudos: 343





	1. Daffodils (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi goes about his routine,  
> Bokuto disregards the ice rink's hours of operation,  
> The author is frazzled.
> 
> Daffodils: New Beginnings  
> Wow a Song: When the Day Met the Night -Panic! At The Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh boy okay.  
> this is my first time slapping a fic i've written anywhere public so allow me to apologize in advance.
> 
> also, this is a fic centered around ice skating written by someone whose knowledge of the sport is based on Yuri!!! On Ice and a handful of Wikipedia searches so i'm sorry for the inevitable inaccuracies. :,)

_When the moon fell in love with the sun,_  
_All was golden in the sky,_  
_All was golden when the day met the night._

_______________

He inhaled slowly from behind closed eyelids, his posture was tense with anticipation as he stood on the ice. He gave the blade of his skate one last sleepy knock against the cold, settling down any remaining nerves.

The low thrum of the first few notes of music filled his ears, spurring Akaashi to move his way through the beginning of the song in an almost noncommittal way. He allowed himself to flow through the start up of the instrumental, guiding his movements under the baritone lyricist whose words he’d practically known by heart at this point. He pushed off of the ice and set out at a decent speed as the song began to pick up the pace. 

An all-too-familiar cold crept up his form, but he disregarded it, even as it dully bit at his arms under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the rink. Feeling the way the chilled air brushed through his hair like the gentle hand of a doting mother, Akaashi felt himself melt into his movements. As the wind began to pick up with his speed, he felt like he was floating. His eyes were open with a lazy droop of his lids, more aware of his body than his position situated in the rink.

He let himself be carried away with the lyrics and his corresponding movements, his body humming with a flicker of satisfaction as he landed his first jump right on time with the beat of the song. Akaashi’s pulse quickened when the anticipated lyrics filled his ears- his first combination was coming up.

“ **_-but I might be hoping about this,_ **

**_oh what a sin-_ **”

He breezed through the combination with practiced agility. It wasn’t easy, but the beauty of being on the ice was to make it _look_ as such, a wicked deception, as Oikawa once called it. 

Akaashi continued his light footwork and let himself revel in the feeling of being alone. For the past two weeks, Akaashi’s days had started the exact same way. He’d drag himself out of bed nearly an hour before the sun rose, and he’d make his way to the local ice rink. Normally, the rink wouldn’t open until hours later, but he happened to know the owner’s son very well, who had slipped him an extra key. As he flowed through a toe-loop, Akaashi sent one more silent ‘thank you’ to Suga, his early morning practices were often what got him through the heated buzzing days of summer break.

He eased himself into a Lutz and executed it in one fluid movement before completing a flurry of jumps, his heartbeat racing in time with the fast-paced instrumental that signaled the near-end of the song. It had been his coach’s idea to put most of the combinations near the end, where Akaashi’s stamina would shine through and earn him a higher score.

He slid to a stop just as the song faded in Akaashi’s ears. A frown pulled on the corners of his mouth as he swiped at a bead of sweat that was making its way down the back of his neck. He hadn’t meant to fully go through with all of the jumps, it started as just a warm-up but as usual, Akaashi let himself wander as his body took control. His breathing was still a little heavy as he took his earbuds out and cast his gaze toward the ceiling. The perspiration on his bare arms added to the chill, but Akaashi didn’t mind, he never did. The cold of the ice rink only served to ground him, to dull the sharp corners of his mind when it became overwhelming. 

He drew his focus to the darkened corners of the large building. He had grown quickly accustomed to the quiet of the ice rink in the morning and even preferred it. Sometimes he didn’t even take the opportunity to skate, instead opting to lay on one of the benches and let his mind wander as much as he allowed it to. 

Suga had understood his bad luck with skating in front of crowds, the crippling doubt in his abilities had caused him to hesitate and flunk too many competitions to count. But here, with the few precious hours to himself in the old local rink of his town, Akaashi Keiji could practice in the peaceful quiet that was given to him. 

Having caught his breath, Akaashi kicked his skates into a relaxed spin, relishing in the hollow slice they made against the ice.

Akaashi’s time of solitude on the ice allowed him to breathe easily. It was a predictable few hours that he counted on to get himself through the day.

So you could imagine the way his heart dropped when Akaashi looked up to see a pair of eyes staring at him from the other side of the railing. 

Unfortunately for him, Akaashi seemed to have been unknowingly entertaining an audience. And of course, the shock of it all caused his legs to stiffen mid-spin, and he felt the biting cold of the ice against his elbow before he could even fathom that he had fallen.

“Oh, _shit_ -!”

With wide eyes, Akaashi watched as the stranger made his way onto the ice, his sneakers plodding against the slippery surface. A few feet away, the stranger allowed himself to slide uncontrollably to the fallen skater, his arms flapping wildly to keep his balance. He looked to be around Akaashi’s age if a little older. And if his joggers and t-shirt had anything to say about it, Akaashi would guess that he was in the middle of a morning run. Despite the sweat that decorated the base of his neck, the stranger’s silvery hair stood in a mess of meticulously set spikes. His eyes were a startling shade of yellow and were at the moment wide with worry as he held out a calloused hand for Akaashi to grab on to.

“Uhm-”

“I’m so sorry!” the stranger said, his intense gaze piercing Akaashi as he spewed out a rapid-fire apology. “I didn’t mean to scare you or anything I was just nearby and I saw that the lights were on-”

_Oh, I must have forgotten to lock the door._ Akaashi thought, slightly irritated with himself for being so careless.

“- and I should have said something but I saw you skate and wow that was amazing are you a professional you look so young-”

_Did he say that all in one breath?_ Akaashi took the hand offered to him and almost fell again out of surprise when he was hoisted up as if he were just some oversized stuffed animal someone dropped. He risked a glance at the stranger’s arms and was almost baffled with the sheer mass of muscle that he was met with. 

_There’s no way someone my age could be that built._

“- and I hope you’re not hurt I would feel awful if I did something that messed up your skating are you okay you looked like you fell really hard-”

Akaashi fought the urge to narrow his eyes at this stranger. He was without a doubt the most talkative person he had ever met, he could possibly outdo Hinata after three cups of coffee. This person was overwhelming in a way similar to a packed stand during a competition. His voice was loud and erratic, and his gaze made Akaashi want to crumple up like an empty soda can. His eyes were expressive and intense, pinning him in place as Akaashi prodded at a dull throbbing on his knee that would undoubtedly bruise. 

As he started to blame himself for Akaashi’s possible injury, his expression drooped and if he didn’t know any better, the ice skater would say that even the ends of his hair followed the movement. 

“Uhm,” Akaashi tried to find his voice amidst the stranger’s rambling. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

The effect was instant. The stranger’s eyes lit up and a smile pulled wide at his face. “That’s good to hear! Also _hey hey hey_ \- how did you do that?!”

Akaashi blinked, helpless to the exasperation that had quickly found its way to his own face. “Huh?”

“You know the jumps and the spins! You were practically _flying_ , I only see that stuff on TV- that was amazing.” the silver-haired man looked almost beside himself, leaning toward Akaashi with _those eyes_ that made him subconsciously slide a few inches backward on his skates. 

He reminded him of when Hinata first came to the rink and saw Oikawa skate through his program. Except seeing the man in front of him, he reminded Akaashi of something else, something on the tip of his tongue- 

“I’ve been skating since I was young,” Akaashi said, opting to check the fastenings of his skates instead of facing the praise that pelted him like hail. Suddenly his post-fall embarrassment fell away and he realized his situation.

“Who are you?” Akaashi asked before he could help it. He wasn’t sure how the Sugawaras would react if they found out that Akaashi had accidentally let in some random guy off the street. He imagined they wouldn’t be too happy.

“Oh!” The stranger said, holding out his hand once more. “I’m Bokuto Kotarou. It’s nice to meet you.”

Akaashi once again allowed his hand to be completely enveloped by the stranger’s- by _Bokuto’s_ own hand. 

_His hands are warm._ He noted as he looked at them. Anything to keep his eyes from being trapped by the yellow ones that shined down on him. 

“Akaashi Keiji,” 

“Akaashi... “ Bokuto mused to himself, and Akaashi could practically see the gears turning in his head. “You’re not the owner?”

_He knows the Sugawaras?_ Akaashi thought with a quirk of his brow. Well, more like he knew _of_ them.

“Ah, no. I’m a close friend. I come in early sometimes to practice alone.” the skater held his arms to his chest, suddenly feeling a bit too open to the cold of the rink with the thin material of his tank top doing little to cover him. 

Akaashi turned his gaze back to the overwhelming yellow, eyes narrowing as curiosity got the better of him. “What are you doing here so early?” After all, if he had to guess, Akaashi was sure he had only been at the rink for half an hour or so, and the place still had a little while to go before opening its doors to the public.

“I heard that this was where our practice was being moved to. I was out running this morning and thought I’d check it out beforehand.”

“Practice?”

“Yeah!” pride-filled Bokuto’s eyes as he stepped back and thrust a thumb to his chest. “You’re looking at the captain of the local hockey team! Last week our usual rink shut down because of a fire and I heard from Coach that this is where we’ll be practicing for now.”

A small “oh,” escaped Akaashi before he could help it. Hockey? It made sense, looking at the way Bokuto’s shirt seemed to be having trouble covering the muscles on his chest completely… his mind caught up with his staring and he flushed, averting his offending gaze. 

His fingers mindlessly played with the hem of his tank top. Suga hadn’t said anything about this to the other skaters, did he know?

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your private practice, Akaashi.” Bokuto said his name like he was trying to see how he felt about the way it came out of his mouth. Apparently he rather liked it, what with the way his eyes lit up yet again. “But it was so cool to see you skate. I hope I can see it again!”

Akaashi only humored his praise with a hum. Not serving as a yes but at the same time, not exactly a no. With the intense look Bokuto had when Akaashi first turned around, he couldn’t imagine skating in front of him again. And yet, as the silver-haired stranger poured more spoonfuls of innocent sweet praise on Akaashi, he couldn’t see any judgement in the way Bokuto’s eyes shined. Only pure awe.

_He wouldn’t think I was so amazing if he saw the way the others moved._ A bored voice in the back of his head mused.

A chirping noise came from Bokuto’s pocket, interrupting Akaashi’s thoughts. It came from Bokuto’s phone as he fished it out. Assuming he saw the time, Akaashi swore Bokuto’s hair spiked up with clear surprise.

“I need to go! But it was nice talking to you Akaashi!” Bokuto said, his large figure doing a comical penguin waddle across the ice to get off of the rink without slipping. He picked up a duffle bag that Akaashi hadn’t seen him carrying earlier and raced toward the double doors. He pushed through the heavy metal but not before turning back to the lone figure skater and raising an overly enthusiastic arm.

“I’ll see you soon!”

The echoing _thud_ of the door closing resonated off the walls of the empty rink before Akaashi could even comprehend what had happened. He didn’t know when the hockey team was scheduled to arrive but with the frequency in which Akaashi visited the rink, he was bound to run into the captain again. He was still thinking back to the conversation he had just had as Akaashi made lazy circles around the rink in an attempt to warm his legs back up. 

Bokuto almost didn’t seem real, with his boundless energy and open wonder. The only way that Akaashi knew for certain that the interaction even happened was the dull pain on his knee.

As he pushed himself through a lazy spin, Akaashi felt his face grow hot at the thought of Bokuto’s rapt attention on him as he watched him skate. He should have been upset or uncomfortable with it all- that some stranger interrupted Akaashi’s peaceful morning. But instead, the heat on his face intensified at the thought of him still there, watching Akaashi move across the ice, face painted with the same light happiness that he had just seen not five minutes ago.

Well, this was new. And Akaashi didn't like new.


	2. Peonies (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi spends three days holding his breath,  
> Oikawa gets the entertainment he was looking for,  
> Takeda just wants everyone to get along.
> 
> Peonies: Bashfulness  
> Wow a Song: Fair Game -Dayglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *a note from me,, but from the future as i reformat stuff:  
> you really thought you could write this in a month, huh.  
> look who's the clown, it's you, buddy. go get your wig and your little nose. you'll need it in october, you fool.

_Oh, I was something so remarkable_   
_It seems to me that he was only in my head_   
_For a moment, I told you, I lost it_   
_Tornado over conscious_   
_Spinning around the room, you move in ways I'll never understand_

_______________

It was a peaceful three days until Akaashi had seen Bokuto again. 

Perhaps peaceful wasn’t the right word to use? The time leading up to that fateful meeting had left Akaashi feeling off-balance. Oftentimes he found himself absentmindedly poking at the dark bruise that had bloomed on his knee, his head full of flashes of yellow all the while. Something about Bokuto made Akaashi fidget in his seat, made him think about how he watched him skate. No one had witnessed Akaashi’s private morning practices, it was a sacred time for him, and knowing that Bokuto was there and had seen him on the ice made his chest tighten the slightest bit.

When had he stepped in? What was his initial reaction? What if Akaashi had messed up? What would Bokuto have thought of him then? Would he think him any less great? And what about if he saw the others skate? Why did he care what Bokuto thought? Why-

“What’re you thinking about?”

Akaashi lifted his gaze to find Suga standing in front of him, offering a water bottle and a granola bar. It was then Akaashi realized that he hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day.

He took the offerings with a quiet ‘thank you’ and made room for Suga on the small bench overlooking the rink. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, but currently, Kageyama and Hinata were on the ice, working on their newest program in “baby steps” as their coach called it, still fully testing out their partnership. It seemed to be a shaky thing, but the two of them were young and determined to do well. Kageyama had extraordinary skill and promise, this was well known and he had even taken lessons from Oikawa in the past. 

Hinata, however, was the exact opposite of his partner. Where Kageyama was calm and elegant, Hinata was spirited and fiery. The dark-haired skater was reliable with his jumps and stable on the ice, however, his counterpart was filled with boundless energy in the rink and never failed to surprise. Together, coach Takeda hoped they would make an excellent figure skating pair, but today seemed to dampen such thoughts.

“ _Dumbass Hinata_! You’re coming in too fast!”

“Not my fault you have the reflexes of an eighty-year-old man!”

“This eighty-year-old man is about to beat your ass!”

“Boys please…” Takeda sighed, once again trying to get the boys’ focus, except that proved hard when Oikawa had stationed himself against the railing, egging the two of them on in his usual fashion.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Suga noted beside Akaashi, pulling his attention back to the bench where they currently sat, squeezed together so tight that their thighs touched. 

Suga had always managed to look effortlessly beautiful, and it made something in Akaashi’s gut twist. He sat next to Akaashi, with one leg draped over the other, he was looking out toward the rink but his attention was held to his friend next to him. As always, Suga was quick to work out if anything was bothering Akaashi and gently pushed to get answers, just like a mother. His grey hair was tousled, flyaways catching on the lights of the rink overhead. His gaze caught on Akaashi and he smiled, the edges of his eyes bringing up the beauty mark on his cheek.

Akaashi looked down at his lap and tugged open the packaging of the granola bar, taking a bite so as to give him time to carefully pick his words. Because _he_ didn’t even know what had been occupying his mind as of late.

The granola bar was something with dried cherries and dark chocolate, he noted as the flavors melted on his tongue. The sweetness of it invaded his mouth and left an impressionable aftertaste. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally, switching to his water. He had taken his time only to give such a shitty and vague response, but Suga had waited. And Suga was _still_ waiting, looking at him expectantly. “It was probably just that visit from the hockey player.” Akaashi refused to say Bokuto’s name unless someone brought it up first. Perhaps only to feign disinterest. Perhaps to avoid the uncomfortable tightening of his chest when it was said.

Suga hummed beside him, eyes flitting toward Hinata and Kageyama as they once again practiced a lift. “He saw you skate, didn’t he?”

Out of everyone, Suga was the one who understood how important solitary practice was for Akaashi. He needed the time to simply _be_ without any prying and judgemental eyes. He answered the question with a single nod, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

“And how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi said, running a hand through his hair. He would need a haircut soon, his dark waves would soon be out of control. “It made me feel uncomfortable but I can’t help but think about the look on his face.”

“Did you like how he looked?” Suga asked, tilting his head a fraction, like a curious bird eyeing something shiny on the ground.

Red found its way on his cheeks before he could do anything about it. Of course, Suga was talking about his expression when Akaashi turned around, but his criminal mind couldn’t help but think back to the muscular arms pulling him up and the bright eyes watching his every move. How the yellow in them softened when he said Akaashi’s name.

The past three days have been doing him no favors. 

“Maybe,” was all that Akaashi could say, averting Suga’s questioning gaze by taking another desperate drink of water.

A frustrated yell yanked Akaashi away from his conversation and toward the ice. There, Kageyama had presumed his yelling with newly kindled intensity. He had to give some credit to Hinata, he knew how to take Kageyama’s constant scolding, even if it was usually reserved just for him.

“Let’s take a break, you two,” Takeda said, the bags under his eyes intensified as he adjusted his glasses and turned back. “Akaashi, are you ready?” 

More than willing to expend some of his nervous energy, Akaashi stood and made his way to the edge of the rink. He took off the blade protectors of his skates with careful movements, suddenly over perceptive to the eyes on him.

“Let’s run through the technical today, yeah?” Akaashi only nodded as he stepped onto the ice. “Do a short warm-up first, please.”

Akaashi pushed off of the ice and threw himself into taking lazy laps around the rink. He was secretly thankful his coach wanted to work on the technical piece instead of the longer program. With the technical, he felt more confident. It was shorter and more precise, and although Oikawa was adamant that the longer program suited him better, Akaashi felt it was more safe doing the other. He couldn’t be sure his performance with the longer program would be one hundred percent all of the time, which was why he opted to practice it alone, much to his coach’s quiet disappointment.

Once he felt he was ready Akaashi positioned himself in the center of the rink, waiting for Takeda to finish putting his music in.

“Are you ready?” Takeda asked, turning toward the awaiting figure skater.

“Yes sir,”

Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa lazily draped himself over the railing. “So polite,” He muttered into the hand holding his chin up.

Akaashi opted to ignore the brunette as he got into a comfortable starting position, his body tense and waiting. The soft beginning notes of the violin wavered through the air and Akaashi began. His technical skate was set to a short violin piece with piano accompaniment, Takeda helped him pick it out, confident that Akaashi could enrapture the audience and judges alike with his delicate movements. His coach had told him the story behind the piece, it was simple and likely told to children, but he thought that the constant flitting movement required would fit Akaashi. 

He failed to remember the extent of it all, but the story was centered around a moth that had fallen in love with the moon. The program served to follow the moth throughout its short existence, waiting each night to see the moon once more. The violin that streamed from the radio was supposed to represent the moth’s movement, slow and waiting during the day, and frantic and jovial at night. It was a cycle, a repetitive dance with the push and pull between the erratic whine of the violin and the steady thrum of the piano. The end of the song would be the moth’s death. It would happen during the new moon, when the night sky was devoid of light and the moth was left in despair, thinking that its lover hadn’t returned its affections. 

_What an odd tale_ _to tell children_. Akaashi huffed internally as he set himself up for the next jump. 

Disappointment panged off of his ribs as he missed a triple and had to settle for a double axel. Akaashi vaguely registered the familiar thud of the double doors slamming shut, but the only thing that remained at the forefront of his mind was his failed attempt. Frustrated, he pushed himself through the rest of the song, just waiting for it to be over.

All he had left was his last combination. Just a couple of jumps and he would be home free.

But alas, fate had a rather questionable sense of humor when a familiar pair of yellow eyes found his. 

He almost lost his footing when, in that split second, Akaashi saw the exact same look of amazement pressed onto Bokuto’s face. 

Akaashi grit his teeth and pulled himself together, this was the last spot in the program he wanted to be messing up. With one last upheaval of energy, he threw himself into the combination, landing two successful -albeit shaky- triple jumps. If Akaashi had been a millisecond slower in regaining his full attention, he surely would’ve been eating the very ice he stood upon. 

He heard Suga’s low whistle from the stands as the classical piece ended. The grey-haired boy knew Akaashi almost messed up and ate shit, and even worse, he knew _why_.

At that point, the only thing louder than Akaashi’s breathing in his ears was Bokuto yelling from across the rink, with the same gusto from when they first met.

“ _Hey hey hey_ , Akaashi that was great!” 

Akaashi turned to face Bokuto, where he was excitedly leaning over the railing next to an amused looking Oikawa. He could only pray that he didn’t look as frazzled as he felt.

“Hello again, Bokuto,”

The next few minutes Akaashi spent with Takeda had passed too quickly. Behind him, he could hear more people spilling into the foyer of the building. But Bokuto’s voice stood out among the rest. He narrowed his focus on his coach, though, carefully taking in everything he had to say, nodding along to both the praise and criticism he had to offer. 

“Keep up the good work, Akaashi,” Takeda said, ending his speech with a light pat on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, sir,” he replied with a slight bow of his head.

Turning back, Akaashi ran a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers up in the curled locks. He wondered how hard he had to slam his head against the ice for it to breakthrough.

_Maybe ostriches really are on to something..._

A blur of orange jumped excitedly next to him as he stuffed the blade protectors over his skates.

“Akaashi that was amazing! You went like whoosh and bwaah! So cool!” 

The dark-haired figure skater resigned to pat the top of Hinata’s head, a fond smile growing on his face as his fingers sunk into the soft, fiery strands. The carrot top skater always had a fondness for Akaashi since he set foot in the rink. He was odd and excitable, but Akaashi never minded the way he would watch him on the ice, always trying to incorporate some of Akaashi’s style into his own. It was certainly interesting to watch and Akaashi couldn’t wait for him to develop more, Hinata would surely be a wonderful skater, outdoing him by a longshot if given the time.

“It’s good to see you again, Akaashi!” Bokuto had made his way over to the figure skaters, he was currently busy holding a couple of bulging duffle bags, trying to get a decent grip on them.

Akaashi’s eyes made a guilty swipe at the muscles on the hockey captain’s arms and fought against the confusing warmth on his face. Why was it good to see him again? Their last conversation was practically an interrogation thanks to the way Akaashi’s brain had melted and could only produce questions. 

It _still_ could only produce questions, apparently. 

“Do you need help with those?” he asked, gesturing weakly towards the bags.

“That's a dumb question, ‘Kasahi,” Oikawa had spoken Akaashi’s mind, appearing out of nowhere like the freaking Cheshire cat. “You’re a twig, honey.”

“It's called manners, not that you would know any.” Akaashi had grumbled, suddenly more on edge than he was before. The brunette skater had a clever way of getting under his skin, and with the way his eyes glinted, Oikawa was surely finding the situation hilarious for reasons beyond Akaashi’s understanding. 

A deep boom erupted in Akaash’s ears, and it took him a moment to realize that it was Bokuto _laughing_. It was rich and it seemed to fill every inch of the building. It made his chest tighten in an odd way and at that point, Akaashi would love nothing more than for the ground to open up beneath him. “I wouldn’t want to bother you, but I appreciate it!”

_You’re bothering me more than you’ll ever know right now._ His mush brain supplied unhelpfully.

“So you must be the hockey player our little ‘Kaashi was going on about the other day.” Oikawa’s eyes narrowed, assessing him with a heavy air of judgment. “I must say, you fit the description well.” 

Akaashi had half a mind to stick the blade of his skate into Oikawa’s good knee. He hoped the high-and-mighty figure skater had suddenly developed telepathy as he internally screamed.

_Shutupshutupshutupshutup_ -

“Yeah!” Bokuto was obviously oblivious to the way Oikawa scanned him up and down as if he were prey. It probably had something to do with the way his own eyes were glued to Akaashi. “I watched him skate the other day, it was different from the one he was doing now though-”

_Shutupshutup-_

“Wait, you let him watch the free skate?!” Oikawa squawked, his gaze burning holes into the side of Akaashi’s head, practically screaming _I know he made a lasting impression on you but I didn’t know you liked him that much_ -

Akaashi fiddled with his fingers, purposely avoiding the eyes of everyone around him. “It was an accident, he sort of let himself in.”

Bokuto made a small noise of confusion bordering on the edge of sounding guilty and cocked his head to the side like that of a bird. “Was I not supposed to see it?”

“Well you see,” Oikawa said, his voice taking on a patronizing tone because _I know something you don’t_. He propped an arm on Akaashi’s shoulder, despite the awkward height difference. “Our little ‘Kaashi here doesn’t like skating in front of other people if he’s not confident in his program. That’s why he usually comes in early.”

_Why not just tell him my entire life story at this point?_ It felt as though Akaashi had brought over a friend and his family was set on embarrassing him. _Not_ that he considered Bokuto a friend or anything; he barely knew him.

“So you’re from the hockey team?” Hinata butted in before anyone could comment, at least someone was in Akaashi’s corner today. “That’s so cool! I can take you guys to the locker room if that’s where you need to go?”

Akaashi sent a silent prayer to thank whatever deity happened to be listening to the pitiful soul that was his own. A twinge of guilt plucked at his heart- he had almost forgotten Hinata was there, he had lost the height he previously had when he wore his skates. He leveled his gaze once more on Bokuto and just now realized how tall he was. With Akaashi’s added inches, he had just managed to maintain an eye-level height with him. 

Bokuto’s expression lit up, a mirror copy of the red-head that was standing in front of him, abysmally shorter. He accepted the pair skater’s offer and adjusted the weight of his bags.

_He’s like the family-size version of Hinata._

“I’ll see you later, Akaashi!” Bokuto said. It was a promise and not a question, the dark-haired boy noticed. 

This time, Akaashi was able to respond with a slight nod and a wave, watching as the hockey player walked off, a ball of energy excitedly leading him.

“He fits the description _exactly,_ ” Oikawa said, leaning into Akaashi’s ear and joining him in watching the retreating form of Bokuto.

It was too late when Akaashi realized that a splotchy red heat had decorated his face during the entirety of the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please bear with all the grammatical errors in this, most of this fic is a product of 4am procrastination and an unhealthy amount of caffeine (and spite)


	3. Peonies (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is losing his patience,  
> Kuroo finds him amusing,  
> Suga asks for a favor.
> 
> Peonies: Bashfulness  
> Wow a Song: Fair Game -Dayglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to cut this chapter a little short, because i figured the next conversation would be fun to put at the beginning :)

_I guess the game we play is taking different shape_   
_We make up new rules as we go along_   
_And all her other friends, lined up along the fence_   
_I'm in the last draft, as I expected_

_________________

_Laying on the floor of his room in solitude had never sounded so appealing until today._

That was the epiphany Akaashi had as he laced up his well-worn sneakers. It would be dark and cold and quiet, the perfect combination to soothe the migraine that was currently moving into his skull like a new tenant. 

_And what a roomy apartment it’ll have, without my brain to take up any space._ Akaashi thought with a dull wave of self-hatred as he nit-picked the conversation that took place only a few minutes ago. 

But by god did it feel like years.

Sitting back, Akaashi realized that in his frustrations he tied the laces tight enough to cut off the circulation to his feet. He couldn’t care less at this point. His practice was over, he had no reason to sit around the rink any longer.

He slung his practice bag over his shoulder and sought out a mop of messy grey hair, he should at least say goodbye to Suga before he bolted out of the door. He would at least appreciate it, Akaashi figured.

He found him by the door to the locker room, talking to another hockey player. This one was vastly different from Bokuto, it seemed. His form wasn’t as muscular, and he proved to be a little shorter than his captain. His hair was kept short and it was often that he brought a hand up to mess with the dark brown strands that gathered at the nape of his neck.

_A nervous habit?_

Akaashi wasn’t able to toy with the idea any longer before being interrupted by Suga as he turned his attention toward the exasperated figure skater. 

“Ah, there he is,”

_Were you talking about me?_ He fought the urge to let the quiet suspicion show on his face.

“Akaashi,” Suga said, placing a soft hand between his shoulder blades. “This is Daichi.”

Daichi gave him a warm smile, and it seemed to take over his entire face, crinkling the edges of his brown eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, I saw you skating when we walked in. You’re really talented.”

Akaashi fought back the mental image of a mother introducing her child to their new stepdad. Instead, he gave a polite nod. “Thank you.” Much to his chagrin, he received comments like this too often to count, but that didn’t make the flaws of his technique any less obvious to him. It was like trying to add sugar to counteract a recipe that had gone bad with too much salt. It didn’t fix anything. “Do you two know each other?”

“We’ve had a couple classes together.” Suga answered, glancing back toward the hockey player.

Speaking of which… 

“You didn’t tell me they’d be coming in today,” Akaashi noted, his tone light but if anyone knew him like Suga did, they would be able to detect the slight frustration in his voice.

It was obvious he did not appreciate today’s visitors. 

“Oh! Well, the practices were _supposed_ to have almost a half-hour gap, but we happened to have some _difficulties_ today.” Suga’s normally soft eyes pointedly narrowed at the two younger pair skaters, where they were currently fighting over a towel. Hinata had to jump on top of a bench in order to wrestle the item out of Kageyama’s grip when he held it above the other’s head.

Akaashi shivered at the dull intensity in Suga’s glare. He would hate to be on the receiving end of that look. 

He heard a muffled “ _hey hey hey_ ” resonate from behind the locker room door and Akaashi was reminded of his situation. “I just wanted to let you know that I was leaving. Thank you for having me today.”

“Of course!” Suga said, just as Daichi mumbled “How polite,” under his breath, likely not even realizing he said it out loud. 

Akaashi bit at his lower lip and made his way toward the main double doors. He’s also been subjected to that phrase more times than he could count as well. 

He was just stepping into the foyer when he heard “Bye ‘Kaashi!” from over his shoulder. He ignored Oikawa and continued his warpath to the sweet salvation that lay under the exit sign. He was mad at him, and the brunette figure skater knew it, but he wouldn’t take Akaashi’s ignoring him to heart.

_Even though he probably should._ He huffed at the thought. Agreeing with himself.

He was almost home free when a silky smooth “ _Hey hey, what do we have here?_ ” stopped Akaashi in his tracks, God, he’s had to deal with too many “ _hey’s_ ” and it was driving him to the point of insanity.

_Damn social expectations._ Akaashi thought as his grip on the strap of his bag tightened exponentially. 

When he turned to face the voice that was undoubtedly calling to him ( _because it’d be too convenient if it wasn’t_ ) he was met with a mess of black hair that Akaashi was fairly certain had never seen a hairbrush before. The boy was obviously another hockey player, his pure height towered over Akaashi and if the figure skater hadn’t been so annoyed at that moment, he possibly would’ve been intimidated. His posture was too relaxed as he stuck his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he wore a shit-eating grin and his eyebrows were raised in what was probably amusement, seeing as though Akaashi didn’t care to hide his exasperation any more.

“You Akaashi?” he asked, tilting his head so that the fringe covering his right eye slipped to the side a bit.

Akaashi narrowed his eyes. “Yes?”

Apparently, that was just the response the hockey player was looking for. He thrust his hand out towards the skater. “I’m Kuroo, I just figured I’d see what all the hubbub was about.” 

He shook his hand.

“Hub… bub?”

“Ohh yeah,” Kuroo ran a lazy hand through his hair, doing nothing to fix the rat’s nest on top of his head. “Since Saturday I haven’t been able to have a single conversation with Bo without him mentioning something about a figure skater.”

_Bo?_

“I figured it was you,” Kuroo’s gaze narrowed in on him, but it did nothing to Akaashi’s resolve. He’d been through worse, he figured as his brain involuntarily flickered to a specific shade of yellow.

“Oh,” was all he cared to say on the subject. 

Somewhere in the rink, Akaashi heard the familiar voice of Hinata, yelling.

“You’re a hockey player?!” Hinata had yelled, voice booming and incredulous. “But you’re so short?!!”

“You’re one to talk pipsqueak! Look at yourself!” the second voice likely came from another hockey player.

“Well, I bet I could jump higher than you!”

Akaashi held back a tired sigh, he had to leave before he was expected to calm Hinata down like the rowdy kid he was. “I should get going,” he said, turning back toward the door and shifting the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you should skate for me soon!” Kuroo said, not going after him, instead opting to watch him leave with a smug smile as if he had gotten everything he had ever wanted.

The dark haired figure skater threw a glance over his shoulder, just so Kuroo knew that he had heard him, before opening the door in front of him. 

He only gave a wary hum, not bothering to humor this boy with anything Akaashi had to say. He had other plans involving a perfect space on his wall that was just _begging_ him to slam his head against it, and it would be rude to cancel.

For the first time in his very young life, Akaashi felt like he could fully breathe as he walked away from the rink. It was too crowded in there and much too noisy to think. Akaashi’s lack of concentration and the presence of the hockey players seemed to go hand-in-hand, at this point. And through majority rule, the hockey players Akaashi had met so far made him want to pull his hair out.

The midday summer sun beat down on the tired figure skater with relentless intensity, the whine of cicadas only serving to egg it on. The sky overhead was clear, wiped away of any blemishes that clouds could possibly offer- no break from the angry ball of fire that had taken to bullying him. 

He scampered out of the direct sunlight like an ant under a magnifying glass, hiding under the covered walkway that loomed in front of the shops that lined the streets. The air was still, and the only breeze that was given to him came from the occasional car that sped by. He could take the bus, he realized as he passed a marked bench, however Akaashi preferred to sweat alone, not cram himself between other equally as damp strangers like some sort of bad-smelling support group. 

Akaashi mindlessly began to pull at his fingers while his brain started up like one of the poorly-aged computers he had been resigned to use at the library. It clicked and whirled, replaying his most recent faults on the ice. The past three days had seen some of the worst practices Akaashi had had in a long time. His mind had taken to wandering more than usual, fretting over unspoken worries and possible hypotheticals- all revolving around a peculiar hockey captain with frosted tips. He didn’t know what exactly had caused Bokuto to make a lasting impression. Yes, he had interrupted Akaashi’s private practice, but it was odd: the thought of those yellow eyes watching him skate gave him a different kind of nervous rush than any other audience member had.

It wasn’t pleasant by any means, just slightly different. 

It took the sweet smell of cinnamon to jolt Akaashi’s brain back to the right track. As he passed by the hole-in-the-wall bakery, he reminded himself that _different didn’t equate to good_. It was the warmth of careful familiarity that had gotten Akaashi to where he was now, and he couldn’t exactly complain. He had almost finished highschool with an above excellent GPA, a small but reliable group of friends, and a sure future that was just ahead. Yes, it was a little boring from an outside perspective, but stability was what spurred Akaashi on, nothing else. 

Which was why the idea of spending any more time around the hockey team made him dig his fingers into a death grip on his bag. 

Akaashi had prided himself on his intuition, it was what had gotten him this far. And it didn’t take any deep thinking to know that if Akaashi wanted to keep his precious stability, he should cut any ties with the hockey team before anything really happened. There were only a few weeks before school and competition season started, and they both demanded every drop of focus he was able to give. It made him uneasy to think about just how much space in his brain had been pushed aside for the intense gaze that had pinned him to the ice twice now… 

No, Akaashi would have to stomp that memory out as soon as possible. 

Friday morning found Akaashi in bed, the covers pushed up over his head as he fought the losing battle to ignore the early sun that had slipped through the spaces of his curtains. 

For the past couple of days, he decided to sleep in instead of going to the rink. It served as more of a mental break than a physical one, he reasoned. But it proved difficult since he had grown used to waking up at an ungodly hour, so when he woke up at five, Akaashi had been resigned to staring at his ceiling in the dark. His internal body clock was determined to get him out of bed- that and the persistent ringing of his phone.

The light of his phone left him blindly fumbling for his glasses in order to peer down at the caller ID. He knew who it was before he even lifted his phone from the bedside table, only one person would bother to call him, much less get him to answer-

“Hello?”

His voice was rough from disuse.

“Good morning, sleepy head!” Suga’s chipper voice jolted him awake. “I almost thought you were gonna let the call go through,”

Akaashi flopped back on top of his comforter, stretching like a cat. “I considered it,” he said, fighting a sleepy yawn.

“Well it’s a good thing you didn’t, I need your help at the rink.”

Akaashi went through the mental schedule of the ice rink, trying to recall what was happening that day without bothering to ask. When he got his answer, a groan ripped itself from his throat before he could stuff it back in. “Why do you need my help with the kids’ class?”

“Because Yamaguchi had to cancel last minute. Something about his grandfather- I didn’t push for details.” Akaashi could hear Suga doing something on the other end of the line, he was probably already at the rink. “Normally I wouldn’t do this but since it’s summer and parents need somewhere for their kids to go, it's usually busier.”

Akaashi buried his head into his pillow, grogginess clouding his usual compliancy. “But why _me_?”

“It’s either you or Oikawa, and he scares the kids.”

_I can’t argue with that._

“Give me twenty minutes,”

“I’ll see you there hun,” Suga’s voice floated into his ear before the line went dead. 

Akaashi slid uncharacteristically off the side of his mattress. It was going to be a long day, but maybe he could guilt Suga into getting him something for his troubles? Those cinnamon pastries he had smelled on the way home were sounding really good right about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i respond to comments like a nine-year-old on kik and i'm sorry about that i'm just a little happy that people are reading something that i put out lmao


	4. Orange Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga loves kids,  
> Natsu loves Akaashi,  
> Akaashi loves sweets.
> 
> Orange Blossoms: Innocence  
> Wow a Song: (She's Already) in My Head -Khai Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this just in: Sobbing Author Doesn't Know How To Pace This Fic But She's Trying And That's Enough, She Thinks.

_And maybe I'm just held up on those Yesterdays, yesterdays_   
_But I feel like there's things I need to learn_

_______________

He was sweating when he pushed through the doors of the ice rink. Summer was never his favorite season.

More than happy to let the cold wash over him, Akaashi trudged through the foyer and gave Suga a wave when he saw his head pop up from behind the counter. He looked to be picking out child’s skates from the filled shelves they had for guest use. 

“Need any help?” he asked, letting his practice bag slip from his shoulder. 

Suga checked the tag of a pair of beige ice skates, they were comically small and Akaashi could only pray that the kids they would be teaching didn’t turn out to be toddlers. “Yeah but first put your stuff in the backroom and freshen up, would you? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes at Suga’s playful smirk. “I wonder why,”

“I wonder…” the dove haired boy hummed, turning back around to resume his search. 

He rolled his eyes at Suga’s back and made his way to the locker room situated near the other side of the building. The warmness of the locker room always made Akaashi feel a little uncomfortable. Paired with the smell of sweat and deodorant that was amplified likely from the recent hockey practice, it reminded him of middle school gym class. Those were memories he could surely go without. 

Akaashi let his practice bag plop against the smoothed wood of one of the benches closest to the exit of the locker room. He predicted the grueling heat this morning and brought an extra shirt to change into. It was a black athletic shirt that had the ice rink’s logo over his heart. Like most of Akaashi’s clothes, it was well worn. 

He risked a glance into one of the full-body mirrors littered around the room. Akaashi didn’t often care to put much effort into his appearance, much to Oikawa’s horror because _“if you just put a little product in your hair then maybe-”_. At the thought, he ran a hand through the dark waves, dried sweat causing the strands to curl around his ears and near his neck. He didn’t even touch his hair this morning in his hurry to get out of the house, at that point was he any better than Kuroo?

_Yes, obviously_. He thought, as his hand made a clean sweep through his hair.

He turned his attention away from the waves crowning his face and pushed the extra fabric of his shirt under the elastic of his sweatpants. The shirt clung tight to his torso, like a weak mockery of Bokuto’s shirt as it stretched over his muscled form when they first met. 

Akaashi grimaced. He remembered that detail a little more clearly than he cared to admit. 

He turned sharply on his heel, throwing his reflection once more glance, eyes locking with the dull gunmetal blue of his own before ambling back to his bag to fish out his skates. 

“Took you long enough,” Suga teased when Akaashi had returned to the counter, setting his skates up there.

He had no clever retort to offer, his mind still frazzled at the mental image of the hockey captain’s arms flexing as he pulled Akaashi off of the ice-

“The kids’ll be here soon, I pretty much have everything ready, could you just get some extra waters from the break room in case they forget their own?” Suga asked, tucking a clipboard under his arm and lining up the children’s skates on the counter.

Akaashi responded with a compliant “sure” and set about his task, gathering water bottles in his arms from the fridge in the darkened break room. He had taken a handful of naps back here, and he would love to do it again. But with a heavy heart, Akaashi closed the door to the room behind him with his foot. He could hear voices in the foyer, echoing loudly off the walls.

The kids weren’t as young as Akaashi thought they would be. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. While younger children were a handful in their own way, older kids usually wanted to do more dangerous stuff, and Akaashi would know since he was once one of them. He remembered begging his old coach to teach him how to jump, tired of both his feet staying on the ice and desperate to make large steps in improvement. He especially remembered his coach’s tired expression, and could practically feel the same one melting on his face in anticipation of the possible nagging.

A familiar tuft of orange hair nearly knocked him over. 

“‘ _Kaashi_! I didn’t know you were gonna be our teacher!”

“Kaashi” peered over the drinks bundled in his arms, and was met with the shining face of Hinata Natsu. They had met many times before, usually at competitions or when Hinata had to bring her to practice. Her resemblance to her older brother was almost uncanny, and not only that but they shared the same way of looking up to Akaashi. 

“Just for today,” Akaashi said, kneeling down to see the young girl’s face. “Yamaguchi had something to take care of.”

“You’re gonna skate with me!?” the eight-year-old bounced in place, exactly the same way Hinata often did.

Akaashi nodded, unsure how to really talk to children. “Yup. Will you help me carry these?” he asked, gesturing to the bottles he was holding haphazardly. 

Excited, she took a handful of water bottles from Akaashi, accompanying him to the counter where they were then stacked against the wall. Suga was leading a small group of children around Natsu’s age into the open area near the rink. A few mothers followed, and Hinata popped his head around the door of the foyer. 

“Oh hey Akaashi!” the redhead chirped, and then, as if remembering why he was there he turned to his younger sister, handing her a smaller pair of skates. “Natsu you can’t run off from Suga like that!”

“But I saw ‘Kaashi,” she whined in response, fisting the extra fabric of Akaashi’s sweats in her free hand. 

Hinata sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Oi! Hinata!” Kageyama stood in the doorway of the foyer, looking every bit awkward around the children as Akaashi felt. “We gotta get going.”

_He’s trying not to curse in front of the kids_. Akaashi thought to himself with a flicker of amusement at the revelation.

“Bye Yamayama!” Natsu shouted as they started to leave, waving her hand wildly in the air.

“Come on Yamayama, let’s go,” Hinata parroted, a cheeky grin stretching across his face as he pulled on the other pair skater’s arm. 

Akaashi was certain that as soon as they left, he would be hearing Kageyama’s shouts of muffled words he would never dare to say around the kids that currently surrounded him. He could only pray for Kageyama’s sake that Oikawa would never hear him be called that, as the brunette figure skater had a penchant for nicknames, mainly to annoy people. 

“Alright everyone,” Suga clapped, his voice soft and friendly with the children that circled around him like squirrels surrounding some breadcrumbs in the park. “My name is Suga and today me and Akaashi are going to get you on the ice. But first, we have to stretch, it's very important! So if you’ll just follow along with me…”

Akaashi didn’t know how Suga could act so comfortable around children. They were loud and excitable and often Akaashi found himself clueless on how to handle them when he was left with his relatives’ children. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, surely Suga didn’t have any other options when he invited him to help. He and Yamaguchi made an excellent pair of teachers. Akaashi had witnessed some of their classes in the past, they were able to keep up with the energy of their students and made even the most reserved children break out of their shells. 

_Suga probably just needed an extra pair of eyes on the rink today._ Akaashi thought and decided to be as little of an annoyance as possible, following along with Suga as he took the lead. 

It was during the break when Suga was able to speak to him without having to keep a close eye on the children. 

“How are you holding up?” he asked, leaning against the railing outside of the rink while Akaashi skated a few circles. He was nowhere near tired, physically, at least.

“Fine, I think. But Natsu’s adamant on learning how to jump.” 

Just as he feared, Natsu had cornered him during their free time to practice the basics of their footwork. She almost had him giving in, with the intense look in her eyes that reminded Akaashi way too much of her brother. Thankfully common sense over wired his brain before he could open his mouth.

Suga laughed in response. It sounded like the tinkling of bells, light and uplifting. It sounded the exact opposite of Bokuto’s laugh, Akaashi realized. In contrast, his was deep and rumbling, like thunder. But something about it made his stomach do flips and made his chest tighten in that weird way that he had unfortunately been getting used to in that past week. Akaashi’s face heated up, the hockey player had been worming his way into the figure skater’s thoughts increasingly often. 

His hands tangled themselves in his hair. Akaashi really needed to pull himself together.

“You okay over there?” Suga asked, a hand holding his chin as a small smile graced his face.

“I’m fine,” Akaashi said, frustration gripping the edges of his brain. “I’ve just been distracted lately I guess?”

Suga quirked an eyebrow. “Is it the hockey player?”

_No use in lying to him._

“I think so,”

“Well that’s interesting…” the other boy said unhelpfully, raising a water bottle to his lips.

Akaashi wasn’t sure if he liked the lilt in his voice when he said that. “Is it?”

Suga graced him with another smile. “You know, you were having issues with that last combination in the technical.”

Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed. He wasn’t sure where this was going. “I’m aware,”

“Did you know that when Bokuto walked in your jumps had more energy behind them?”

_Nervous energy, maybe._

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation,” Akaashi muttered as he turned on the ice. He didn’t want Suga to see the blush that was likely still fading from his cheeks. Even worse, he didn’t want him to ask why it was there, because Akaashi didn’t even know the answer.

“Maybe,” Suga hummed. “But he seems to have caught your attention.”

“Where are you going with this?”

When Akaashi turned back around, he was faced with Suga’s intense gaze. His soft brown eyes picked him apart as if he were a moth pinned to a board, taking in every little detail while he was stuck in place. He was weighing something in his mind, carefully picking out the words he wanted to say. His pinky curled around his chin with tight interest before he spoke.

“What if you let him watch you practice?”

Akaashi’s chest tightened as he leveled his gaze with the other boy. “What?” It escaped his lips before he could register it.

Bokuto’s expression from the morning they met filled Akaashi’s mind for the umpteenth time. The way he had both of his hands clamped on the railing with a white-knuckled grip, how his mouth had fallen open the slightest bit when they made eye contact, and of course, the intense yellow gaze of his that watched Akaashi’s every move captivated with the boy that stood before him.

Akaashi imagined voluntarily subjecting himself to that again and had to suppress a shudder. He doubted he’d be able to handle that. 

“I-”

“If you’re willing, he might be able to help you with your thing against people watching you skate. Think about it some more,” Suga said, pushing off of the railing and going to meet with the kids. “Because I know that’s what you’re doing right now.”

Akaashi didn’t realize he was blushing until the hand on his cheek burned from the intense heat. If he didn’t know any better, he would think he was sick. 

He spent the rest of the class with the same expression, Suga’s words echoing off the empty expanse of his skull. He wasn’t sure if what Suga was saying was true, but he knew the grey-haired boy was only trying to help him- that’s all he’s ever done. Maybe some exposure therapy could help Akaashi get that tight feeling in his chest to go away?

“Ah, I should pay you for your help today,” Suga said after the class had ended. He was back behind the counter, shelving the skates from before. 

Akaashi turned back from waving goodbye to Hinata as he came to pick up Natsu, this was his chance, he figured as the thought of cinnamon pastries filled his mind. He wasn’t kidding from before. 

“You don’t need to pay me,” Akaashi responded, waving off the idea of money. His sights were set on something a bit more… edible. “However I did miss lunch…” He leaned against the counter and fiddled with the fastenings of one of the skates that sat up there.

Suga let out a light huff of laughter. He had known the figure skater for too long to feign ignorance. “Alright, what did you see at the bakery now?” 

“Something with cinnamon?” Akaashi offered. He had been too deep in his head at the time to really see the pastry itself. 

“Got it.” Suga nodded, leaning under the counter to find his wallet. “I’ll go and get you that ‘Something With Cinnamon’ if you stay here to sweep up the crumbs from the kids.”

_A more than perfect exchange._ A bubble of excitement rose in his stomach. 

“Of course,” happiness edged at Akaashi’s words.

The dove haired teen slid past the counter, pocketing his belongings as a smile pulled at his mouth. “You and your sweet tooth… I’ll be back in a few.”

Akaashi waved him off before going to get the broom.

He let the silence of the empty rink sink into him, the only noises being the soft sweep of the broom and the occasional car from outside. It was monotonous activities such as these that Akaashi loved the most. He could let his mind wander and still get something done, his body taking over while his mind went on a mini-vacation. Lazy productivity. 

His stomach let out a shy rumble just as Akaashi began to wonder when Suga was going to be back. As if on cue, one of the double doors slammed open, jarring Akaashi from his peaceful quiet. 

“Wh-” Akaashi began, making sure he didn’t drop the dustpan full of crumbs out of shock. 

_Suga was back? And Suga was pissed? Why did he slam the door open so hard? Is he okay?_

Akaashi was just about to call out to Suga to see if he was okay when a head of silver hair popped out of the open door to the foyer. 

_Silver hair_ , not grey. 

“Hey hey hey! Akaashi!”

_You’re fucking kidding me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi could probably get an advil sponsorship since he's using it so often to get rid of his headaches,,,


	5. Red Hyacinths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto gets everything he's ever wanted,  
> Akaashi vows to never speak to Suga again,  
> Kenma is irritated.
> 
> Red Hyacinths: Playfulness  
> Wow a Song: Oozin -Beach Bunny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little wonky i'm sorry, i had to go through it again and fix some things and she's still not how i want her. oh well

_Didn't expect anything_   
_Why does my face turn red when you look at me?_   
_Was it something you said?_   
_Or is it all in my head?_

_______________

It was the third time he had seen Bokuto, and coincidentally, it was the third time Akaashi had lost control of his motor skills. How was it that every time they came face to face, Bokuto managed to surprise him in one way or another? 

“Hello,” Akaashi finally said, keeping his gaze drawn to the floor. Suddenly he was finding that sweeping was taking up all of his attention. It made him _entirely too busy_ to say anything else to the hockey player that made his way over to him.

“What’re you doing here?” Bokuto asked when he found himself standing beside the figure skater. Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi could see his beat-up sneakers. The rubber that was set around the bottom was streaked with dirt and peeled away from the fabric of the shoe in certain places. What looked to be a poorly drawn owl was scribbled onto the faded black fabric on the outer side of the shoe, staring up at him with comically large eyes. “Were you going to practice?”

Akaashi pointedly ignored the hopeful edge in Bokuto’s words, his conversation with Suga from earlier that day was still fresh in his mind. 

“No, I just came to help with something. That’s all.” the nervous figure skater dumped the rest of the crumbs into a waiting trashcan and ducked behind the counter to return the broom and dustpan back to their respective places. He stayed behind the counter, figuring it would be better to have a physical wall separating them, also so the hockey player wouldn’t see how he mindlessly rocked from foot to foot. A nervous habit.

Bokuto, obviously not having a good grip on the concept of personal space, leaned on his side of the counter, tucking his folded arms beneath him and effectively shattering the room Akaashi left between them for his own mental stability. Interest sparked behind the yellow in his eyes. “It seems like you’re here all the time.”

Was he meant to say anything to that? Akaashi wasn’t sure, but he did anyway, feeling the need to defend himself a bit. “Well I like being here, and sometimes Suga needs me for things…”

“How come I didn’t see you yesterday?” Bokuto asked, pinning him in place with a questioning gaze while he tilted his head. It seemed as though it were his turn to interrogate Akaashi.

Since the hockey team’s arrival in the rink, the figure skaters seemed to have fun socializing with them during the time gap between their practices. It was often Hinata that stayed to watch them, enamoured with the high energy team. Akaashi had heard about Oikawa staying back as well, and he figured it was best not to question the actions of the brunette skater. Whatever answers he could possibly gain would only fuel more questions.

As Bokuto’s own question seeped into Akaashi’s brain, the fingers that were previously thumbing the edges of a stack of discarded papers on the counter froze. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think Bokuto would notice he was gone. “I had something I needed to do after practice so I couldn’t stick around.”

The lie felt heavy on his tongue. In truth, after Akaashi had learned the hockey practice schedule, he had booked it home in order to avoid what had happened last time. He supposed it wasn’t exactly a lie, his early arrival home let Akaashi watch a new episode of a sitcom he hadn’t been able to see for some time now. Though it wasn’t as good as he remembered.

But it was the little things, he figured, trying to remain optimistic.

“What are you doing here?” Akaashi asked, suddenly realizing the situation. He now knew the hockey practice schedule extensively, so unless Bokuto decided to be a real outstanding captain and arrive _four days early_ -

“ _Oh_ !” Bokuto shouted, as if _Akaashi_ had distracted _him_ from what he was doing. “Well I was coming in for the class today, but I got caught up on the way here and it looks like I missed it.”

Akaashi couldn’t stop himself from pulling an expression that showcased every bit of confusion that he felt. He watched as Bokuto sheepily rubbed the back of his neck, lifting up what looked to be a practice bag so Akaashi could see. “You do know that everyone in that class barely reaches past your hip, right?” he asked, leaning on his side of the counter.

He watched helplessly as Bokuto’s face screwed up, smoke practically coming from his ears due to the intense thinking he must’ve been subjecting himself to. “But- _why would they be so short_ -”

“Bokuto I mean to say that the class is for children. It’s a beginner’s class.”

Akaashi was rewarded with another hearty serving of Bokuto’s laughter. It was quickly becoming something that the figure skater found himself liking, as the booming noise filled the small space between them and made Akaashi’s face feel a little too hot for comfort. 

Bokuto leaned an inch closer, his eyes, bright with mirth were caught on Akaashi as a blinding grin split open on his face. “That makes more sense!”

Akaashi suddenly found it a little harder to breathe.

He cleared his throat instead, turning away and opting to look at a promotional poster on the wall beside him. “Why were you trying to take the class anyway? You already skate,” he said, fighting down the damning tightening in his chest. He could keep a conversation with Bokuto without making a complete fool of himself, if he couldn’t then he was utterly hopeless. 

“Well,” Bokuto looked down and wiped some dirt off the smooth surface of the counter. “I was hoping that I could maybe learn to skate like you.” 

_Huh?_

“Like me?” 

“-and like the other figure skaters!” he added, throwing his hands up in a playful show of innocence.

Before he could help it, his mind supplied him with the mental image of Bokuto in one of Akaashi’s old leotards, throwing his well-built figure into elaborate jumps on the ice. Bubbles of laughter spilled past his lips before he could think to stop it. His head had fallen into his hands, his fingers splayed to cover the red that blotched over his face from his incessant laughing. When Akaashi looked up, he swore his lungs nearly collapsed. In a perfect state of deja vu, his eyes found themselves stuck to Bokuto’s expression. 

Once again, Bokuto’s mouth was slightly ajar, his lips parted to show a subtle flash of white teeth. Yellow had found its way to dull blue, his gaze intense and razor-sharp, not exactly threatening, but more than enough to be considered overwhelming. From up close, Akaashi couldn’t turn away from the yellow eyes that picked him apart. This was extremely different from seeing that expression of his from a safe distance from across the rink. From here, Akaashi couldn’t move- couldn’t breathe.

For the first time, it was Bokuto that looked away, his cheeks dusted with a warm pink. ”So uh-”

Footsteps.

“ _Akaashi_ ! Sorry for the wait! I went to go get some _actual_ lunch as well because I figured you didn’t eat breakfast and the line was ridiculous and then I saw Daichi- _Oh_! Hi Bokuto?” 

Suga stood in the doorway of the foyer, his eyes widened a fraction and a politely curious smile was stamped on his face. Sweat weighed down on the grey hairs around his neck, and he had rolled the ends of his blue joggers up, likely a product of the midday heat. The bags in his grip rustled as he moved toward the counter, and the familiar smell of cinnamon circled Akaashi like a sugary vice. 

He swallowed, his throat feeling like cotton. “Welcome back, Suga.” Why did Akaashi feel like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

“Hey Suga!” Bokuto seemed to have switched to a completely different gear. He traded his intense gaze for a softer, more excited one as he turned to wave at the new arrival. “You saw Daichi huh, how was he?” 

Suga blinked, obviously more than a little surprised to see the hockey captain there, but accepting of it nonetheless. “He was fine. Complained a lot about the heat though.”

Bokuto gave a bark of laughter and shuffled to the side so Suga could arrange the bags on the counter. “Sounds like him. He moved here from up north a few years ago, so he’s not used to it.”

Suga hummed as he slipped the contents from their bags, arranging the containers of food like a sad buffet on the space granted to them. “That so? He never mentioned it.”

Akaashi had pulled himself together by now, he leaned over the counter slightly, eyeing the boxes of food as Suga and Bokuto threw themselves into a conversation. Screw dietary needs, Akaashi had been through enough today. With a quick hand, he grabbed hold of the familiar white box that came from the bakery down the street and peeled the lid back. Inside looked to be around a dozen cookies, a little smaller than Akaashi’s fist, made of a puffy dough and lightly coated in cinnamon. 

_More than worth the trouble._ Akaashi thought as he plucked one out of its cozy placement in the box and took a bite out of it, relishing in the warm cinnamon that spread across his tongue.

Akaashi’s eyes met with Suga’s as the grey-haired skater raised an eyebrow. He would be needing an explanation for their surprise lunch guest. Instead of bothering to ask, Suga swiveled the open box towards the hockey captain. “Go ahead and have some, Bokuto.”

“Oh sweet! Thank you!” Bokuto said, helping himself to one with little-to-no hesitation. Much to Akaashi’s horror, he had to watch as the hockey player wolfed the cookie down in nearly one bite. _How the hell_ \- was he even able to taste it?!

“Bokuto wanted to take the class today, but he wasn’t able to,” Akaashi answered the unspoken question, filling his mouth with another heavenly dessert so as to avoid saying anything further.

“The… class for children?” Suga asked, confusion settling on his face in a much more subtle and polite manner than Akaashi’s when he was first faced with the information. 

Bokuto nodded, wiping a smudge of cinnamon from the corner of his mouth. “I just really liked watching the figure skaters so I thought maybe I’d try it out.” 

“Ohh,”

Akaashi whipped his head toward Suga. He knew that tone, and the light in his eyes only confirmed it. The way his smile pulled at the beauty mark on his cheek practically said “ _An opportunity has presented itself,_ ”

Akaashi usually hated whatever happened after that look.

“Well maybe,” Suga started, crossing his arms in a disarming aloofness that only made Akaashi narrow his eyes at him. “It would help if you watched first, that way it could be easier to learn?” 

Akaashi stopped breathing. _He wouldn’t-_

“Bokuto why don’t you come to their practices?”

_He would! He absolutely would!_

A quiet settled over the three, and with wide eyes, Akaashi risked a glance at the hockey captain. Yellow nearly glowed with excitement and a rock weighed Akaashi’s stomach down to his feet.

_Sugawara Koushi I trusted you I can’t believe you would do this to me I’m never telling you anything ever again I’m never looking at you ever again I’m never going to speak to you ever again go ahead and see if you can get anyone to help you with your classes next time Yamaguchi’s grandfather finds himself in the hospital_ -

“Oh wow really!? That would be so cool, thank you so much Suga!” Bokuto nearly leapt over the counter, the spikes on his hair seemingly straightening themselves out even more. “Wait is it really okay?”

Suga nodded, ignoring how Akaashi shot daggers at him. “Yep! Their coach comes in on Tuesdays, but any other time you’re welcome to go.”

Bokuto turned to Akaashi, his fists tightened with childlike happiness. “Would it be okay if I went, Akaashi?” 

Akaashi blinked. He was asking for his permission to watch him skate? He ignored the warmth that bloomed on his face, he doubted he could say no with the looks that both people on either side were giving him. “Yeah that’s fine,”

He couldn’t ignore the slight waver in his voice. No matter how much he wanted to.

Akaashi Keiji decided that he would kill Suga. Because death was the only punishment fit for the psychological torture that he was currently being put through. It was Monday morning as he and Kenma hiked up the steps to the entrance of the building of the ice rink. In his infinite irritation, Akaashi had boycotted the rink for the weekend, which would probably serve to bite him in the ass. But he couldn’t care less. Either way, he would be making a fool of himself today. 

“What’s with the face?” Kenma asked as they reached the double doors, looking up from his phone with a raised eyebrow. 

Akaashi said nothing as he pushed in his way through the entrance, being met with a booming “ _Hey hey hey!_ ” that came from deep inside of the building.

“Nevermind. Forget I asked.” the bleached blond sighed deeply, pocketing his phone and following Akaashi inside. 

Once they broke through the foyer, they were met with the broad form of Bokuto, who was swinging a laughing Hinata around as if the smaller figure skater were just a piece of paper. A shorter boy Akaashi had recognized as another hockey player had jumped on top of Bokuto’s back and was climbing up his shoulders like a tree. His brown hair was spiked up as if he had been electrocuted, save for the tuft of blond that hung against his forehead. 

“When did these idiots get here?” Kenma asked from beside Akaashi as they took in the chaos. 

Surprise flashed across Akaashi’s face. “You know them?” 

Another sigh erupted from the smaller blond. “I’d like to pretend that I didn’t,”

“They got here just last week,” Akaashi said, adjusting his hold on his practice bag. “They’ll be here for a while, there was some trouble with their old place.”

“If by ‘trouble’, you mean a five-foot-wide hole burned in the ceiling, then yeah.” a voice answered from over the two skater’s shoulders. Kuroo stepped out from behind them, his hands fisted in the pockets of his joggers.

Kenma’s face sunk into that of poorly disguised revulsion.

“You never mentioned that little detail,” Akaashi mumbled, taking a compulsory step away from the messy-haired hockey player. It seemed he still hadn’t found a hairbrush. “How did that even-”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Kuroo said with a wink.

Kenma groaned. It was quiet but the distaste was ever-present. “Please do,”

“Hey Kenma,” Kuroo directed a smile towards him, obviously ignoring the irritation that rolled off of the blond in thick waves. “I didn’t see you here last week. Skipping practice? Now that’s no good.”

Kenma rolled his eyes to the ‘tuts’ of the taller boy. “I was out of town, but you already knew that. You’re just being annoying.”

Kenma didn’t wait for a response, instead he grabbed Akaashi’s wrist and guided him past the hockey players, toward the sweet silence of the locker room. 

“They’re awfully loud,” the dark-haired figure skater mused, hopping over Hinata’s discarded bag in hopes of keeping up with Kenma’s quick pacing. They sidestepped Kageyama as he made his way toward the rink, shooting an annoyed glance a certain preoccupied redhead.

The blond sighed, closing the locker room door behind them and throwing his own bag next to Akaashi’s. “Welcome to my world, I’ve been dealing with that since I was five.”

Akaashi quirked an eyebrow as he pulled out his workout clothes. “Five?”

“Kuroo’s my neighbor, I’ve known him since I was little. He introduced me to the hockey team the moment he joined. I didn’t think they’d ever come here though…”

“My deepest condolences,”

Kenma huffed, throwing an athletic long sleeve on. “Save that for yourself, you’re no longer in a better position,”

Akaashi probably would’ve laughed if he thought Kenma was joking.


	6. Lavender Heather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa thinks he knows something,  
> Bokuto is helpful,  
> Suga loves to teach.
> 
> Lavender Heather: Admiration  
> Wow a Song: Kamila Kid -Chloe Moriondo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take a shot everytime the author says she cut the chapter short,  
> you'll get alcohol poisoning i'm sorry .

_And I always find myself stuck in this love goo_   
_Feelings are hard to ignore_   
_Especially when you don't know what they're for_

_______________

Akaashi tugged on the fabric of his shirt. He had owned the damn thing for over a year now and all of a sudden it seemed as though the collar had shrunk three sizes. It was with that, that he decided that today just wasn’t going to be a good one. Though he supposed it didn’t take much thinking to figure that out. 

He and Kenma had arrived later than everyone else, though he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Kenma had just gotten back from his vacation out of town and Akaashi decided that today he would treat him to something from the bakery down the street as a welcome back gift. They had walked to practice together, helping themselves to a couple of jelly-filled pastries. The two of them decided to clear up the powdered sugar evidence though, Suga wouldn’t be too happy if he found out. 

His mouth still felt thick from the impromptu treat as he leaned over, trying to throw himself into a quick stretch before going on the ice. However, the commotion he was listening to made him pause over his stretches just a bit longer, deciding that maybe being extra thorough never hurt, seeing as though today happened to be a particularly bad day for Kageyama and Hinata. It didn’t help that Oikawa seemed to be extra chipper, which only fueled Kageyama’s anger. 

“Maybe your lifts wouldn’t be so shitty if shrimpy had a better support,” Oikawa called from across the rink, the music to one of his programs only serving as a tasteful background to the ice skater’s condescending remarks. 

“ _Shut up_!” came Kageyama’s response, it echoed off of the walls of the spacious building. 

Akaashi sighed, grabbing the blades of his feet in a feeble attempt to pull himself further. Today _was_ a bad day. Everyone was yelling, and none of his stretches were giving that familiar pull he needed. He looked to his side where Suga was helping Kenma straighten his legs out as he eased himself into a side split. As much as Akaashi hated asking for help on stretches, he needed it.

“Suga,”

The dove haired boy’s attention turned to Akaashi, humming his quiet response.

“Could you help me out when you’re done?”

Before Suga could even open his mouth, Oikawa decided that that was the exact moment he should step in. 

“Now ‘Kaashi, why don’t you ask someone else to help you?”

Akaashi twisted around to see the figure skater, not bothering to get up or move any further to face him. He was leaning against the railing, resting his chin on his forearms while his feet were planted wide behind him on the ice. Akaashi didn’t humor him with an actual response, instead he let his eyebrows furrow, just enough to show his irritated confusion.

“It's fine,” Suga chirped, a small smile planted on his face as he helped Kenma into another position. “We’ll be done in a few minutes anyway-”

“Nonsense! It's best to be efficient, right? Why not use some of the idle bodies around here?” Oikawa asked, a playful smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth as he swiveled to face where their visitors were situated. 

Akaashi had tried to be a good person, he really did. He didn’t litter, he supported local businesses, he treated everyone with respect, he even volunteered. So what atrocities against mankind had he committed in order to deserve this? Oikawa must’ve hated him, he realized. That was the only fitting answer he could come up with. But why? Have those past few years of bonding and friendship all been a lie? Did Akaashi spend that time in ignorant bliss while Oikawa had schemed for the perfect time to ruin him? That would answer a few questions, but still-

“Hey Bokuto! Come here a sec, would you?”

The hockey players had been standing in front of the railing of the rink by the stands, watching as Hinata and Kageyama practiced. Bokuto had been ecstatic to watch the rink’s pair skaters leap through their program with astounding grace and speed. The other hockey player -whose name Akaashi learned was Nishinoya- reacted just the same, shouting incredulous praise to Hinata as the redhead pushed himself ever higher in his jumps.

A small part of Akaashi’s brain felt that, if they just stayed in one place during the entire practice, then maybe he wouldn’t completely make a fool of himself today. But _no, they just had to move around dammit_.

The striking silver of Bokuto’s hair bobbed into Akaashi’s peripheral. 

“Did you need something?” 

Akaashi craned his neck slightly more to get a better view of his imminent death, schooling his features back into a neutral expression so as to give Oikawa less to go off of. 

“‘Kaashi needs help with his stretches, not that he’d ever ask for any.” The cheekiness of Oikawa’s voice made Akaashi turn back around, shunning the skater and trying to possibly ignore the situation altogether because _if you can’t see it, it can’t see you_.

He panned his attention over to Kenma and Suga. Kenma looked bored if anything, half of his face was obscured by his arms as he leaned into a stretch. Suga, however, took everything in with clear interest. He looked to be biting his tongue, opting to watch everything through slightly widened eyes, his raised eyebrows doing wonders in showcasing his calm curiosity. That expression of Suga’s seemed to be the go-to whenever Akaashi and Bokuto were involved, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it.

Akaashi could practically hear the gears turning in the hockey captain’s head, he didn’t need this. He leaned into his stretch, hoping to show everyone that, _hey look I’m perfectly fine and independent you can go now_ \- “That’s not necessary, I don’t need help.” He bent his head further into his legs, hoping to hide the embarrassment that eased onto his face.

“I don’t want to hear that crap, honey.” Oikawa’s voice floated to his ears like an annoyingly persistent mosquito. “If he’s not properly warmed up on the ice, he could get hurt, and that would be a shame right before competition season.”

Akaashi sighed, swatting away whatever the other figure skater had to say, and pulled himself forward even more. Suga’s gaze was burning holes into the side of his head at this point.

He could hear the sharp tone of annoyance as it began to simmer into Oikawa’s words. “Not that it would matter. I mean I’d still beat you anyway, right?”

Akaashi took in a deep, grounding breath as he sat back, shooting Oikawa a bored look. He didn’t have the patience to sit through another one of Oikawa’s teasing sessions, it was too early in the day to be accused of homicide, after all. His eyes slid over to Bokuto, who stood near the railing with a friendly smile that was only effective in making Akaashi’s lungs collapse. 

With a sharp twinge of irritation, he realized that Oikawa had made Akaashi look like a stubborn little kid- and maybe he was right. 

“Well, only if he’s okay with it,”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. If he was able to look past Boktuo (which he was not), Akaashi would see the pleased look on Oikawa’s face. But, he didn’t, so the brunette figure skater would live to see another day. Instead, his eyes were caught on the yellow that pinned him in place as Bokuto made his way over to him. 

“Sure Akaashi! What do you need me to do?” 

“Uhm,” Akaashi internally screamed, why couldn’t he talk all of a sudden? “Just uh, push me into this stretch until I tell you to stop.”

He had had help with his stretches a million times, so why was it that Akaashi nearly fell over the moment he felt Bokuto’s hands on his back, gently pushing him forward. Heat bloomed on Akaashi’s face, at the very least, he was thankful that the hockey player wasn’t facing him at the moment. He tried to focus on pulling his chest closer to his outstretched legs, but Bokuto’s hands on his back felt too hot like someone had pushed a branding iron against his shoulder blades.

_Why are you freaking out?_

_Because he’s touching me-_

_You idiot, Suga’s done this with you more times than you can count! How is he any different?_

_It just is?! Nothing makes sense when it comes to him!_

Akaashi grimaced. He had to hand it to himself, he was right.

“You can keep pushing, Bokuto.”

“Oh! Okay, I just didn’t know if you were hurting any.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”

Together, they went through the motions. If Akaashi closed his eyes, he could manage the touches. They were innocent and gentle and much to Akaashi’s burning guilty conscience, rather helpful. Everything was starting to go smoothly until Bokuto had to position himself in front of Akaashi, where the figure skater had to face the person responsible for the tightening in his chest and the splotchy red on his cheeks that was nearly unbearable at this point.

He was currently leaning over Akaashi, one of his hands pushing the skater’s knee against his chest. His other hand was planted next to Akaashi’s head to support himself. He had done this a million times, it was standard practice. The sentence buzzed through his head repeatedly- a frantic mantra that was just barely allowing him to hold onto his sanity. He was so deep in his head that he didn’t realize their positioning until Akaashi looked up and made direct eye contact with Bokuto. 

The yellow in his eyes had darkened from the lack of direct light, but they remained locked on the figure skater. The hand on his knee was unwavering, and Akaashi could feel the slight pressure that came from each individual digit that dug into the fabric of his leggings. Akaashi couldn’t breathe as he watched as Bokuto gazed down at him through his eyelashes, looking expectant.

_Of course, he’s expecting you to tell him when to stop, you utter moron!_

The pressure of his knee against his chest was nothing compared to the tightening that spread up toward his throat. 

_This is so stupid- I’m so stupid._

A frustrated groan left his throat before he could stop it, and Akaashi threw an arm over his face, hoping to hide the red that had undoubtedly made permanent residence on his cheeks. 

The hand on his knee immediately pulled away. “Oh god! Am I hurting you? Did I push too far?”

Akaashi didn’t lift the arm off his face, even after Bokuto’s panicked questions. If anything he only pushed it harder against the bridge of his nose. “Yes.” It was the only thing he was able to say.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

Akaashi stopped the landslide of apologies before they were able to pick up speed. “It’s okay. It’s my fault for not saying anything, don’t worry about it.”

Guilt settled heavily in his gut like a rock; he made Bokuto feel bad for something he didn’t do. In truth, Bokuto hadn’t even hurt him, Akaashi just needed the hockey captain to stop looking at him like that while leaned over him-

Kuroo’s laughter echoed sharply off the walls of the building and reminded the already embarrassed figure skater that, _of course,_ Bokuto’s friends probably would’ve noticed them by now. Akaashi didn’t think of himself as a religious person, but lately, he found himself praying to whatever deity was available to spare him of the humiliation that seemed to plague him every day.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Akaashi sat up, his hand slipped off of his face and he watched as Bokuto sat back on his haunches, his face was drawn tight with concern. He let a smile tug at the ends of his mouth, the hockey player’s expression was the exact same as when they first met. “I’m sure. Thank you for helping me, Bokuto.”

Bokuto jumped to his feet and cleared his throat, glancing to where Kenma was working on his program. “Of course,” red had started to creep on his face. “Anytime.”

Akaashi was quick to get on the ice, desperate to get far away from the hockey player and whatever effect he had on the ice skater’s immediate health. 

Since Kenma was still taking up part of the rink, Akaashi tucked himself away on the far side of the ice. From there, it would be easier to practice his jumps- he had been flubbing them a lot more frequently ever since he had been acquainted with a rather boisterous hockey player...

He found that it was difficult to fall into a rhythm this time, due to the rink’s newest visitors. It proved to be the case with Nishinoya and Hinata yelling about some nonsense in the seating area, and Kuroo shouting out to Kenma(much to the latter's annoyance). Somewhere behind him, Akaashi could hear Suga and Bokuto talking. If he strained his ears, he could listen to Suga as he explained different concepts on the ice to the hockey captain. It seemed as though he was fully enraptured by the conversation, finding every piece of information given to him exciting. 

Akaashi huffed a small breath of laughter, the warm air a stark contrast to the tip of his reddened nose and cheeks. Bokuto reminded him of the kids that he and Suga taught the other day. With this in mind, he figured it was safe to assume that Suga was in his element at the moment. 

The grey-haired boy loved to teach children, his infinite patience and kind voice doing wonders to even the most excitable of heathens that he had come across. It was for this reason that he tended to avoid competitions, instead choosing to stay at his parents’ rink and host ice skating lessons for the local children. The parents liked it well enough, it almost served as a daycare for when they had to run errands without their children. To Suga, it was a win-win situation- he got paid for doing what he loved, and parents got a break while their kids learned a new sport. 

It was after Akaashi landed a jump that he realized Suga and Bokuto were talking about _him_.

“-And what jump was that just now?” curiosity bled into Bokuto’s voice, so much so that his tone was the quietest it had been all day so far.

A pleased laugh came from behind Akaashi as he strained his ears, it was undoubtedly from Suga. “That was an axel jump,”

“And he turned twice in the air so it would be a… double axel jump, right?”

“Yes! He did an extra half-turn as well because he approached the jump head-on. It’s actually known to be a bit more of a difficult move.”

Akaashi felt a smile ease onto his face, it sounded like Suga was in full-blown teacher mode.

“But he made it look so easy!” Bokuto gaped, Akaashi could practically see the frantic hand gestures the other boy was making at that very moment, despite his back being turned to him.

“Well you see, Akaashi practices the most out of everyone here. He’s very meticulous that way.” Akaashi bristled under Suga’s words, throwing himself into another jump to avoid falling out of his rhythm. “You saw him during one of his morning practices didn’t you?” 

Akaashi could suddenly feel the burning gaze of Bokuto a bit too strongly. His legs trembled slightly beneath him as he pivoted on the ice, pointedly ignoring the way his throat tightened up at the feeling of multiple eyes on him. He shook his head, running a quick hand through his sweat-dampened hair, he couldn’t allow himself to think about such things at the moment.

“I did,” Bokuto responded, his voice hesitant. “How often does he go here in the morning?”

In the corner of his eye, Akaashi watched as Suga leaned back against the bench they were sitting on. “He comes here whenever he wants to, I gave him a key for it. Although I noticed when he’s stressed he’s here more often. Though with school coming up I’ll probably have to take the key back to make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

Akaashi was in the middle of a jump when he heard that. The sudden shock of Suga taking away his main source of comfort in the mornings caused his balance to wane. The blade of his skate hit the ice hard as Akaashi tried to correct his balance, desperate not to fall in front of everyone.

Once he was stable, Akaashi sharply pivoted to face Suga. The offending boy held his hands up, an innocent smile plastered on his face as if he had just been caught.

“It was a joke, I promise. Just take it easy when school comes around, yeah?”

Akaashi only gave him a breathless nod, his gaze passing over Bokuto who, unsurprisingly, was staring right at him.

“He could hear us?” Bokuto’s voice was edging on disbelief as Akaashi turned back around, pushing himself forward to resume practice once more.

Akaashi could hear Suga’s laughter bounce off of the walls and go right through his ears.

“Oh yeah, voices carry a long way in here. He can probably still hear us now.”

“Really?” Bokuto asked, and as if to test his newfound theory- “Hi Akaashi!”

Akaashi figured there was no harm to turning to look over his shoulder, and giving the hockey captain a small wave. His payment was the blinding smile that Bokuto had been sporting at that moment.

It had been more than enough.

When the time came for Akaashi to run through his program, he knew it was a mistake to choose that day to do the free skate. He hadn’t really thought ahead to the possible disasters that the three newest visitors would harbor until he was getting ready to center himself on the rink. 

Akaashi took note of where Kageyama was stationed on the ice. The pair skater seemed to be in a mood a bit worse than usual. He moved excellently on the ice, just as he was known for, however today his movements happened to possess a sharp edge to them, making him slightly stiff in his jumps. It didn’t take much deep thinking to figure out the cause, though. Tracing Kageyama’s narrowed gaze, Akaashi watched as Hinata and Nishinoya took turns jumping on each other’s shoulders. If the dark-haired figure skater didn’t know any better, he would think that they were gymnasts.

The irritation Kageyama harbored today was understandable in Akaashi’s eyes. Just like him, Kageyama worked hard on the ice to perfect his programs, only, unlike Akaashi, the pair skater wasn’t relying on just himself. Him and Hinata had enough of a shaky relationship as it was, so it was frustrating for Kageyama to watch the redhead get along so well with everyone but him. Their relationship was to be built on trust, and the promise to have each other’s backs on the ice, and lately Kageyama didn’t seem to be so certain of that. 

Akaashi watched as he threw himself into another vicious jump, trying to ease his nerves on the ice away from everyone else. He had to acknowledge Kageyama’s skill, his landings were always soft and incredibly stable, which made Akaashi wonder once more, if being in a pair skate was so stressful to him, why didn’t he just compete in the single’s division? He would’ve done wonderfully there. 

Akaashi shook his head, struggling to regain his focus. It was best not to worry over things that didn’t concern him. 

Cold air filled his lungs with a deep inhale, only serving to ground him with the ice rink’s familiar chill. Akaashi had turned to where he didn’t face anyone, instead his only view was the brick wall of the building, and the faded sponsorship banners that hung there. He felt restless, he felt as if he was under a giant magnifying glass to be inspected and picked apart. Akaashi knocked the blade of his skate against the ice with a shaky exhale, it was just a run-through, it didn’t matter if he messed up- no one would care.

But even so, the thought of Bokuto watching him with the exact same look from the other day- it made his legs feel like they were made of lead. With his back turned, Akaashi could feel the burn of the hockey captain’s attention as it stayed pinpointed on him. Something uncomfortable shifted in his gut. To Bokuto, Akaashi was nothing short of perfection on the ice. So what would he think when Akaashi inevitably messed up? 

Behind him, Akaashi heard the low murmur of conversation and the slice of Kageyama’s skates against the ice. And from the corner of his eye, he watched as Oikawa started to warm up in an unused section of the rink.

The figure skater shifted his weight, his hands coming together to nervously pull at his fingers, Akaashi couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t deserving of Bokuto’s endless sweet praise. He knew nothing of Akaashi. So why did the figure skater feel the need to live up to the compliments that Bokuto constantly showered him in? Why did it matter?

He took another deep breath, ignoring the persistent tightening in his chest. He would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i was gonna make this chapter a little more uh,,,, heated(?) but i remembered the boys had only known each other for about a week so uhm..
> 
> rain check i guess? :)


	7. Anemones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa skates,  
> Bokuto thinks that's cool,  
> Akaashi is conflicted.
> 
> Anemones: Foresakeness  
> Wow a Song: If I'm Being Honest -Dodie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's play the game: Did That Really Happen? Or Are Akaashi's Nerves Just Warping The Way He Sees Things Again?

_Hope has a cost, keeping all fingers crossed and held tight_   
_But I look idiotic with my limbs all knotted, it don't feel right_   
_Truly you've shaken me, and I think you like how I plead_   
_But I have a hunch that that's all you wanted from me_

_______________

Akaashi’s prediction of the day going horribly had turned out to be accurate to a painful degree. 

It seemed to be ramping itself up to a big finale, first, it was coming to practice late, then it was Oikawa’s inevitable betrayal, and, as a spectacular way to end it all, Akaashi’s knees now had matching bruises. Just as the other knee was beginning to fade- it was just his luck; the hottest week of the season and now Akaashi couldn’t wear shorts without Oikawa’s _insinuations_ about his bruised knees. 

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, grimacing when his fingers caught on the sweaty curls. Akaashi leaned forward on the bench, propping himself with his elbows on his knees while he kept his eyes solely on the stitching detail of his skates. He turned his hand up and looked at the tender red of his palm, ignoring the twinge of pain in his wrist that came from the action. He had well and truly fucked up. 

_The moment Akaashi pushed off of the ice and started his program, he knew it wouldn’t end well, and wondered if he could somehow preserve his remaining dignity by stopping midway through. He had opted to skate without the music, instead of pouring all of his focus on the ice. This was one of the first times Oikawa had been around when Akaashi practiced his free skate, and he could feel the brunette’s attention on his form as he prepared himself for the first jump. It was nerve-wracking, he decided, perhaps not as bad as it would be during a competition, but Akaashi couldn’t help the anxious thrum that sunk from his stomach to his legs. He could feel peoples’ attention on him and that was enough to ignite the uncomfortable feeling through him._

  
  


_Akaashi landed the first couple of jumps and let his momentum propel him across the expanse of the rink._

_Everything was going fine, he would be fine._

_He noted his timings on the jumps, he was a bit off, however, he had executed them better than he had done in weeks. As always, Akaashi had turned his nervous energy into something that propelled him through his programs. It was part of the reason coach Takeda had been adamant that he performed well under pressure._

_With practiced motions, Akaashi flowed through the first combination of the program, pushing himself higher into his jumps and allowing satisfaction to quietly overtake his face when he was able to add an extra rotation into his axel. Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi saw Kageyama slide to a stop, his eyes glued to the older figure skater. The rink suddenly seemed to be a lot quieter than before, were they watching him? A bubble of selfish pride rose in him before he could stop it, not exactly canceling out the nervousness that kept him sharp, but certainly making him feel lighter on his feet._

_It was rare to live through moments like these, and it brought Akaashi back to when he had first started figure skating- the unadulterated joy he had felt when he was younger and on the ice. It reminded Akaashi why he remained at the rink, why he almost always found himself there in the early hours of the morning. It was for moments like these._

_When he came to the lutz, Akaashi had to be sure not to put the rest of his energy into it, the last combination of his free skate loomed ahead of him. He had been doing wonderfully so far, his focus had been on point and his movements had been light and exact. Setting himself up for the last few jumps, a voice from the back of Akaashi’s mind crept forward. He wondered if he had lived up to Bokuto’s praise. He clenched his jaw, logically, he knew he didn’t have time to think about such things, he was already in the air and timing was crucial at this point._

_But he couldn’t stop himself. The last jump, a triple rotation, had always been difficult to land. It was set at the very end of his program when Akaashi was beginning to feel the heavyweight of exhaustion. Takeda had been careful to time the jump just right, to where the figure skater could pull it off if he was focused and determined enough. And he had been until he lifted his gaze._

_He saw gold._

_It only lasted for a split second, but the coloration had been absolute. Bokuto’s eyes shone off of the usually harsh fluorescent lighting of the rink, his gaze pinned right on the figure skater’s own. It was as if he had been waiting for the exact moment their eyes would meet. Akaashi was crazy, he figured while looking back on it but at that very moment, suspended in the air, the only word that could come to mind had been_ beautiful _. Boktuo had looked beautiful in that split second. It was odd, the hockey captain looked how he always did, but something in his expression had changed from when they first met. He looked proud, stunned, happy, but most of all he looked to be flustered. A warm red had made itself at home on Bokuto’s cheeks, even lighting the tips of his ears._

_In a moment of free-thinking, Akaashi decided that he would push to see that look as often as possible._

_His mind was still caught on the particular shade that adorned Bokuto’s cheeks when he landed, and the moment his blade connected with the ice, he swore. He wasn’t sure if the word stayed in his head, or pushed past his lips, but he hesitated a millisecond too long while in the air, and landed oddly on his foot. His momentum forced him downward, on his once unblemished knee and continued with its motions. If Akaashi’s hand hadn’t flown out to catch himself, it was likely his own cheeks would’ve been sporting a rather unattractive shade of black or blue._

_Akaashi ignored the sharp spark of pain that shot up his wrist and used his remaining momentum to push himself off of the ice. His fall had been quick, but extremely effective._

_“Akaashi!”_

_He wasn’t sure who had yelled his name, it could’ve been Suga, or Hinata, but the figure skater kept his gaze down, feeling along his legs to make sure there was no serious injury._

_“I’m fine,” it was all he could say, fighting down the embarrassment that clawed its way up his throat. He had been doing so well, Bokuto had finally been able to see just who he was praising._

_Something hot burned in his stomach as he made his way off of the ice, making room for Oikawa in the rink. Bokuto_ had _been able to see who he was praising- a screw up. The familiarity of it all made Akaashi grab his wrist a little too tightly, making him wince. Most of his competitions had ended up that way. Akaashi would be performing smoothly, and suddenly one mistake would activate a domino effect on the rest of his program. It was the main reason he had never made it too far._

_“Akaashi!”_

_He looked up from where he was sliding his blade protectors on and saw Bokuto. In a horrible moment of deja vu, dull, lifeless blue made its way to radiant yellow. He straightened himself out, ignoring the way his chest tightened._

_Akaashi found that he had been ignoring a lot of things as of late, and his willingness to leave these things in the dark made him uncomfortable. However he felt that if he pushed to investigate them a bit more, the outcome would be so much worse._

_“Bokuto,” he let a small smile slip on his face, a perfect copy and paste._

_“You did so good!” Bokuto was practically glowing, with how bright his grin was. “I’ll never know how you do those jumps that was amazing!”_

_Akaashi tilted his head ever so slightly, allowing his eyes to flit to where the hockey captain had been previously sitting. It was almost on the opposite side of the rink, had he run over there to meet him? He didn’t miss the way Kuroo’s gaze stayed on the two of them. Another thing to ignore. The list was piling up._

_“But Bokuto, I messed up. I did horrib-”_

_“Are you kidding me?!” Akaashi was almost irritated with the way Bokuto interrupted him, until he saw the way his eyes lit up. “You looked so cool out there, I’ve never seen anyone skate like that before. You’re amazing, Akaashi!”_

Sitting on the bench, still looking at the red of his palm, Akaashi couldn’t help but be grateful he was alone because he didn’t know if the cold could explain the warmth growing on his face. Bokuto thought he was _amazing_. Even after his spectacular mess-up, Bokuto still reacted the same way from when he first watched him on the ice.

Akaashi looked up, folding his hands together and ignoring the persistent pain in his wrist. He hoped nothing serious would come of it.

In the rink, Oikawa was just beginning to go through his technical program. He watched as the figure skater moved across the ice- Oikawa’s movements demanded the attention of the audience. His presentation in his programs had always been unmatched during competition. They were designed to be flashy, just like the figure skater himself. 

Oikawa’s music was set at a pace faster than anyone else’s at the rink, it was loud and boisterous and nearly the exact opposite of everything Akaashi’s had to offer. Suga would often jokingly compare them to night and day with Takeda. It was a running gag that Akaashi didn’t much care to ruminate, though at the moment the differences between the two skaters seemed to be highlighted. Akaashi’s technical program was set to tell a story, with careful and light movements used to describe the characters and emotion. Oikawa, however, strode across the ice with easy and exaggerated gestures, like a teasing dance. It was as if he were toying with an invisible force as it chased him, clumsy as it missed the brunette to his spins and jumps.

The way he moved, it was with the purpose to draw the eye in. When Akaashi looked up toward the low set stands on the opposite end of the rink, he saw everyone else as they watched, enraptured with the figure skater’s program. Something twisted in his gut, were they watching him like that when Akaashi was on the ice?

_No, of course not._

Akaashi twisted his fingers in his lap, why would they look at him like that? He was nowhere near as talented as Oikawa. He knew this, so why would he get his hopes up? As he ended his program, Akaashi listened to the cheers from the others, with Nishinoya’s yells distinct from everyone’s voices.

“Hey, hey, hey! That was _so cool_!”

Akaashi’s throat suddenly felt too tight to swallow. Bokuto had leaped from his seat, his hair seemingly standing ramrod straight against his head with excitement (did it move on its own?). His eyes were wide once more, just as they had been when he met Akaashi off of the ice earlier that day.

He knew this would happen. Akaashi had recognized that Oikawa was the best figure skater in the rink, so it was no surprise Bokuto would do the same. It was stupid of him to think that Bokuto’s fascination with Akaashi would last. Iron filled his mouth when he bit into the side of his cheek, of course, it wouldn’t last.

He knew it wouldn’t, so why was it that Akaashi’s gut twisted when Bokuto excitedly high-fived the brunette on the ice?

It was the last day of summer break, and Akaashi had found himself on the ice once more. He rolled his ankle from within its tight confines of his skate before pushing himself into a lazy warmup. Suga had recommended taking a break from his private practices while school prepared to barge into his once-peaceful schedule, but with the promise of classes and competition, nervousness bit at him until he was slipping through the back door of the rink.

After his fall yesterday, Akaashi had practiced a bit more, listening to the back-and-forth repartee between Kuroo and Kenma. He had to give Kuroo some credit- he had never met someone so quick to rile the blond up. Kenma was visibly irritated with the hockey player the entire day, it was obvious, however no one at the rink had ever seen him act the way he did around Kuroo. 

During his break, he sat with Suga while he talked to Nishinoya and Bokuto. Much to his horror, both hockey players had enough energy to rival Hinata’s. Akaashi feared the day he would have to interact with the entire hockey team because if recent experience proved correct, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it. It was one thing to be around Bokuto, but it was another to be with almost ten of him. 

Then again, as he set himself up for a jump, Akaashi realized that no one really compared with the way Bokuto made him feel. That wasn’t to say it was a good thing- he preferred to have his conversations without breathing issues and burning embarrassment. There was something about the excitable hockey captain that made Akaashi want to bury his head in the sand. He found that the boy was overwhelming in the opposite way in which competition was. 

Before he even knew his name, Bokuto was already piling praise onto the figure skater, his awe had been more genuine than anyone else’s that Akaashi had come across in years. The way he looked at Akaashi, it was as if he had hung all the stars in the sky. Bokuto was immense with his praise because he had accidentally seen what Akaashi could do. Whether Akaashi liked it or not, he had witnessed something that not even coach Takeda had seen before.

_But not even that was enough._

The thought unearthed Akaashi’s footing and he found himself falling once more. This time, however, when his blood stopped pumping in his ears, all was quiet. The rink was empty save for Akaashi himself. His knees throbbed as he pulled himself up into a crouching position on the ice and readjusted the wrap that was wound sloppily around his wrist. The persistent twinge hadn’t faded and he suspected it was a light sprain.

Once he was fully on his feet again, Akaashi ran a frustrated hand through his hair, gripping the damp curls near the nape of his neck as irritation panged in his chest. What was wrong with him? It was just a compliment. Bokuto handed those out as if it were candy on Halloween. So why did it bother him so much when he gushed over Oikawa?

That wasn’t to say that Oikawa didn’t deserve the praise- he skated wonderfully yesterday. If anyone didn’t deserve it, it was Akaashi. He was the one who fell horribly, it messed up his program, his wrist, and his confidence. He kept this in mind as he pushed himself to gain more momentum on the ice, but it didn’t stop the hot feeling in his chest when he thought back to the way Bokuto’s eyes shone at Oikawa. 

_“That was so cool!”_

Akaashi grit his teeth when he came down hard and unsteady from a jump. Bokuto had looked at Oikawa the same way he looked at Akaashi every time he saw him. Did it even affect Oikawa the way it did Akaashi? It didn’t seem like it, the brunette had just waved his compliment off with a lazy flick of his hand. The flash of gold in Bokuto’s eyes suddenly came to mind. How did that not leave Oikawa frozen in place? Was Akaashi just crazy? What was wrong with him-!?

He didn’t even register that he had fallen again until the cold of the ice knocked roughly against his bruised knee. He was out of breath, and for some reason, a familiar warmth began to build up behind his eyes. Akaashi sat back, cradling his wrist against his tightening chest. He couldn’t focus, his mind had been playing through the memory of Bokuto talking to Oikawa like some sort of video on repeat. 

If it had been a week ago, Akaashi would’ve been more than eager to hand over the hockey captain’s overwhelming praise to Oikawa. But now, after seeing the way his eyes shined when Akaashi landed a jump, the thought of that yellow focusing on the brunette- it made the warmth behind his eyes spill over the slightest bit. 

Irritation bubbled inside of Akaashi, why was he so worked up over this? It didn’t matter! He needed to move on past this self-pitying _bullshit_. So what if he wasn’t as good as Oikawa, he’d just have to push himself harder for the upcoming competition season.

Akaashi knew deep down that none of it mattered and yet, that didn’t stop his chest from hurting.

What was wrong with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to those sticking with this fic, thank you and im sorry the writing quality continuously goes downhill ahhhhhhhhh


	8. Purple Hydrangeas (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is late,  
> Tsukishima is tired,  
> Bokuto knows first aid?
> 
> Purple Hydrangeas: A Deep Understanding Of Someone  
> Wow a Song: Are You Bored Yet? -Wallows (bonus points if it's the acoustic version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie to you, i'm not feeling too good about how i wrote this chapter, but that's okay :)

_But I can't help from asking, "Are you bored yet?"_   
_And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me_   
_Before this ends up as another memory_   
_Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie?_

_______________

The floor of Akaashi’s room was hard and unforgiving, especially in the darkness of the early morning. His chin throbbed as he rubbed away the blunt pain that came from the fall (he had been doing that a lot lately). Akaashi peeled off the notebook paper that had been stuck to his forearm and picked himself up, yanking his leg against the restraint responsible for his sudden acquaintance with the hardwood flooring. Something had wrapped around Akaashi’s ankle in his hurry to leave and caused him to trip.

It was his bookbag, Akaashi realized as he blindly fumbled to free himself. The strap of the bag had been twisted around his ankle, and its contents were now scattered across the floor. The only light offered to him was uselessly dim and came from the slim gaps from his curtains, and it left him floundering to scoop up every runaway paper that decorated the floor of his room.

A frown pulled tight at his mouth as Akaashi rushed to shove the papers back into their respective places, struggling to fit all of the binders back into his bag. The school year had only started a week ago and he was already beginning to feel the weight from all of his courses. His sleeping habits had also fallen victim to it as the hours began to dwindle down once more. Suga had been in the right place when he suggested a break from extra practice, but Akaashi was never one to listen to anything that cut back on his time in the rink.

His eyes darted to his phone, looking over the time that flashed on the screen from where it lay on the floor, having flown out of Akaashi’s hold when he fell. He was late- _really_ late. Akaashi swore under his breath as he slipped out of his room, flinging his practice bag over his shoulder and shoving his phone in the pocket of his joggers. Locking the front door behind him, Akaashi had half a mind to take his mother’s car to the rink, it was her day off after all…

Akaashi shook his head, speeding down the sidewalk. He didn’t need it, it was only a few blocks’ trek and he could stop by a small cafe to pick up a coffee on the way. Just the mere thought of caffeine made Akaashi’s pace quicken- the past week had been a brutal one and there was nothing he wanted more than the weight of an iced coffee in his hand. 

He ran a hand through his hair while he walked, the strands still wet from his shower as the occasional water droplet fell under the fabric of his tank top. Groggy irritation made his shoulders droop- in his haste to leave the house, Akaashi had forgotten to dry his hair. Exhaustion still clung to his form like a heavy second skin, making him stifle a yawn every other minute. The small town was still waking up at this hour, the sun just starting to peek over the horizon as brilliant oranges and yellows pushed away from the quiet darkness of the previous night.

A light breeze pushed its way past Akaashi as he turned down a street lined with small shops. It was practically empty, save for the occasional morning jogger and dog-walker. The vehicles on the road were few and far between, where tired workers bumbled along to their early morning jobs. The streetlights were still on when Akaashi crossed the road, the artificial yellow of the lights casting odd shadows against the worn pavement. 

Akaashi stopped in front of his reflection in the cafe’s windows. It was a small building, nestled on the corner of an intersection and wedged on the ends of two taller building complexes. The brick walls were faded from the sun’s abuse and small bundles of flowers grew from the colorful pots that hung from the awning. A sign was plastered to the glass door, boasting the cafe’s name and hours of operation. Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek when he checked the time on his phone- he was early.

He looked up at his reflection once more, zeroing in on his eyes. He had never liked them very much. Compared to the soft brown of Suga’s eyes, or the brilliant yellow of Bokuto’s, the color of Akaashi’s eyes wasn’t something that drew attention. Just like him, they were dull and uninteresting, and not even able to properly function as his contact lenses currently proved. 

A crashing sound from within the cafe pulled Akaashi’s attention away from his self-centered analysis. Someone was pushing their way through the door of the kitchen, eagerly making their way toward the entrance. The sound of the locks being pushed aside was the only warning Akaashi had before the person popped their head outside of the cafe.

“Hey, Akaashi!”

A pleasant smile found its way on Akaashi’s face. “Hello Yamaguchi,” he followed the freckled boy’s urgent beckoning and made his way into the humble establishment. “Am I too early?”

A groggy “yes” came from the open window to the back room. There, a tall blond was busy preparing the kitchen, occasionally pushing his glasses back in place with his middle finger.

Yamaguchi only spared a glance toward Tsukishima as he made his way behind the counter. “A little, but it's no big deal. Do you want the usual?”

The figure skater nodded, shoving a free hand into his practice bag to find his wallet. “Please.” He pulled out his card. “I heard about your grandfather from Suga, is everything okay?”

The boy had his back to him, starting up the shining appliances that lined the wall with an empty take-out cup in hand. “Oh yeah, my aunt is out of town visiting him in urgent care. So it's just me here taking care of the place.”

“Just you?” Tsukishima was leaning out of the open window from the kitchen, his hair was tousled and the usual look of quiet disinterest had settled on his face. He gave Akaashi a pitiful wave that was really just a lazy lift of his hand before training his eyes on the clock that hung on the opposite wall.

Yamaguchi offered the cook a sympathetic smile and turned back to the tired figure skater. “He’s not too happy about having to wake up earlier. Speaking of which, are you on your way to the rink right now, Akaashi?” 

“Yes, but don’t tell Suga. He’s been wanting me to take a break.”

The warmth of the morning sun caught on Yamaguchi’s face, the gold of it spreading across his freckled cheeks and lighting the tips of his brown hair. A smile akin to Suga’s own lit up his features. “My lips are sealed. I owe you one for covering for me at the kids’ class anyway.”

The strong aroma of coffee invaded the space when Yamaguchi turned back around to continue his work on Akaashi’s drink. He rested his elbows on the counter while he waited, pulling at the loose end of the wrapping on his wrist and watching the barista’s back while he moved around. 

Suga had introduced him to Yamaguchi a couple of years ago when he took Akaashi out to breakfast at the cafe. At the time, Yamaguchi was incredibly shy and working for his aunt as a waiter. It was originally supposed to be a summer job, he had told them until he moved in with his aunt for good. Having just moved to a town where he knew practically no one, Suga, like the parenting type he was, took Yamaguchi under his wing. From there, the younger boy helped Suga out with the kids’ class and any odd jobs at the rink. 

Akaashi had known Tsukishima from his school but had never interacted with him until Yamaguchi came into the mix. Something about the grouchy blond had caught Yamaguchi’s eye, and now the two were rarely seen apart.

“Did you get hurt again?”

Akaashi looked up at Tsukishima, the cook was peering down at the figure skater’s wrist through the thick lenses of his glasses. Slight interest pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Ah,” Akaashi’s other hand shot out to absently pick at the wrapping on his injured wrist. “A bit. It's nothing serious though.”

Tsukishima frowned. “You’d think such a careful person wouldn’t be so reckless,” He turned back into the kitchen to continue his preparations. 

“All done!” Yamaguchi handed him a sizable cup filled to the brim with delicious caffeine, sliding his receipt across the counter. 

Akaashi pocketed his belongings and spared no time in savoring the sweet flavor across his tongue. “Thank you,” His voice came across as much more tired than he initially anticipated. 

Returning to the sidewalk, he hadn’t realized the rise in temperature until he found himself missing the air conditioning in the cafe. More people were out and about now, and the morning song of the local birds filled the air. The intense oranges and yellows in the sky had begun to bleed away, making room for the clear blue of the day. If he looked past the nearby traffic’s exhaust fumes, Akaashi could smell the various restaurants down the street opening for business. He may have been running ridiculously late, but he enjoyed witnessing the sleepy town wake up and start the day.

Akaashi was in the middle of crossing the street when he heard his name being shouted behind him, and there, on the worn asphalt, he swore his soul left his body. He looked over his shoulder and watched with wide eyes as a muscular form raced to the crosswalk in order to catch up with the figure skater. The rising sun had been in Akaashi’s eyes, blocking the person’s features, however, he was able to see past the golden rays that splayed around the edges of the silhouette. 

Silver hair was caught on the morning sun, setting the strands ablaze with gold. The warm light wrapped around his form, picking and choosing what folds and creases of his shirt to highlight. His skin was tanned and the muscles on his arms were only further defined in the sun.

Akaashi blinked. The morning sun favored Bokuto, it seemed.

“ _Agaahshi_!”

He stopped on the sidewalk to let Bokuto catch his breath, he looked to have been out on a run however it was as if he had been sprinting for a while. He was currently leaning forward with his arms gripping his knees.

“Bokuto? Are you okay?” He took a slow sip of his drink to avoid saying anything else.

The out of breath hockey captain looked up, his face shining both with sweat and an unbearably bright grin. “I finally caught up to you!” 

Akaashi tilted his head a fraction. “Me?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto straightened himself out, bringing his hand up to fix his hair back into its spikes. “You walk really fast, you know?”

As if reminding him, Akaashi peeked at the time on his phone and bit down on his straw when he saw it. “Well I am running late…” At this rate, he would have just under an hour of time to himself before Suga came to open the rink to the public.

“You going to practice right now?” Bokuto asked, gesturing at the bag thrown over Akaashi’s shoulder.

He merely nodded and continued his trek up the sidewalk, on the other side of the incline would lay his salvation. Bokuto ambled alongside him, breathlessly going off on five different tangents at once. Akaashi helped himself to another mouthful of iced coffee, it was too early to attempt to keep up with the hockey captain. 

“You must like sweet things, huh?” Bokuto had stopped mid-sentence to watch as the figure skater emptied his drink at an alarming rate. 

“Hm?” Akaashi looked up from the straw and fought the urge to squint, this person was almost too bright and too loud. “What makes you say that?”

The pair maneuvered around a lush flowerbed that sat atop the hill of the street. From their vantage point, they could see further down the road and the buildings that were pushed flush against the sidewalk. 

The hockey player shrugged with broad shoulders. With his brawny figure, this boy could easily be intimidating if he didn’t act so excitable, but Akaashi decided that maybe he preferred to be mildly overwhelmed by him than scared.

“Anytime I’ve seen you eat, it's always sweets.” This prompted Akaashi to raise an amused eyebrow and for Bokuto to flounder. “I-It's not like that’s a bad thing! I just noticed it, that’s all! I mean I like sweet things too I just uh- I didn’t think you would, Akaashi.”

Akaashi couldn’t help the teasing laugh that slipped out of his mouth. “It's fine,” he didn’t think much of the nervous stutter that came from Bokuto the moment he thought he had offended him. But he was eager to change the subject from his childish palette. “I didn’t think you’d take your runs around here.”

That much was true, this part of town wasn’t exactly a spot where a lot of people took a jog. The sidewalks were narrow and steep, as hills were spread across the network of winding roads. It was enough of a chore to walk through there, much less run.

“Oh uh,” Bokuto ran a hand through his hair, thumbing the silver spikes under Akaashi’s curious gaze. “I like the scenery around here better, I just changed my route about a week or so ago.”

The figure skater only nodded, still not exactly understanding but unwilling to push the topic any further.

“Hey, Akaashi,” 

“Hm?”

“How do you skate like that?”

Akaashi looked at the hockey captain beside him, perplexed by the change of tone. Most, if not all of his experiences with Bokuto had been like an explosion: loud, sudden, and damaging to the figure skater’s mental fortitude. But now he had gone quiet and… contemplative? The rapid change was almost unnerving. Akaashi inhaled deeply, savoring the faint taste of morning dew before allowing himself to pull out an answer.

“A lot of practice, I guess,” it was a shit answer, but it was all he could think to say.

The answer satisfied Bokuto as much as it did Akaashi. He watched the way his silver eyebrows furrowed, and picked at the strap of his practice bag. Much to his horror, a thought had begun to form in his head, the traitorous words jumbling together into a coherent sentence that sat on the tip of his tongue. Not too long ago, Akaashi made a promise to himself that he would keep his distance from Bokuto so as to preserve his sanity. And while he wasn’t one to break promises, perhaps he could simply delay them? He could break ties with Bokuto as long as it was before his first competition, right?

Akaashi kept his eyes on the familiar railing that led to the entrance of the ice rink. It stood about twenty feet away, the worn, painted walls rising up to block the sun from his eyes.

“Do you want me to teach you?”

The sour taste of regret briefly dashed across his tongue, what was he doing? Was he insane!? Why would Bokuto want him to-

“Really!? Do you mean it?” Despite being in the shade cast from the building, Bokuto was practically glowing. It was as if someone had plucked a star from the night sky, and molded it into the shape of a teenage boy.

“Sure,”

“Can you do it now?” he asked, glancing at the double doors of the building, Akaashi hadn’t even realized they were stopped outside the front of the rink.

Akaashi blinked a few times, he hadn’t really thought of doing their spontaneous lessons so… _spontaneously_. In the back of his mind, he could practically hear the sing-song voice of Oikawa- _“make use of every opportunity ‘Kaashi,”_. He was going to practice more jumps that morning, but perhaps a change of pace would be nice every now and then. Akaashi glanced back up toward the expectant boy, a smile had spread across his face. It was small in comparison to the overpowering, megawatt grin he was usually subjected to. This one, however, was softer. It was filled with yet to be made promises and praise that made something in the figure skater’s gut squirm. This was going to be a problem- there was no way Akaashi would ever be able to say no to that face.

“We can try.”

Ignoring the animated chattering of the hockey captain, the pair made their way to the back entrance, using the spare key to weasel their way into the previously-locked staff room. Akaashi flicked the lights on, watching through the window of the room as the spacious rink was revealed under buzzing overhead lights. Bokuto uttered another excited and unintelligible noise, scrambling off to the locker room to fetch his skates.

Left alone in the ringing silence, Akaashi leaned against a cheap table pushed against the office wall and stared at the dry erase calendar that hung in front of him. The playing field of identical square spaces was filled, all with small, colored notes jotted down to remind the owners of important dates. A consistent blue line stretched down all of Friday's spaces for the month, saved for the kids’ classes, cleaning days were etched with green, and near the end of the month, in Oikawa’s messy scrawl was the day set for the first figure skating competition of the season. 

Something caught in Akaashi’s throat. The competition was only a few measly weeks away, would he be able to go through with his programs? He had been working hard to make his coach proud- to show him that Akaashi was worthy of the programs he made for him. Fingers pulled on the loose ends of the wrap on his wrist, their grip so tight on the binding that dull pain flared along his arm. He ignored it, instead of tunneling his vision on the bright red marker that circled the offending date. The competition was a few weeks away and he was here, fooling around and entertaining a hockey player’s persistent wishes. What was he doing? Why couldn’t he be responsible for once and use his time wisely? No wonder he was so horrible on the ice-

“Akaashi!”

Warm yellow had suddenly filled his vision in place of red. 

“Bokuto,”

The star- the _boy_ smiled. “What were you thinking about?” He turned around and his eyes caught on the calendar, drawn toward the alarming shade of red. “Oh, that must be the day you compete, right? Suga said something about it.”

Akaashi found himself jerking his head in a simple nod, his fingers continuing to fiddle with the compression wrapping on his wrist.

“I’ll be sure to go, I can’t wait to see it!”

The figure skater’s gaze was forcibly pulled from the floor to the glowing face of the hockey captain. He talked like an old friend going to support him, not even Akaashi’s friends from school felt compelled to visit him during competitions. Something made his lungs feel a bit too big behind his ribs. Were he and Bokuto friends? Surely Akaashi wouldn’t invite a stranger to the rink during his sacred time alone on the ice? Then again, this was the very same person who did just that, twice now.

With all said and done, Bokuto was constantly defying Akaashi’s logic, so perhaps a single exception to his private practice wouldn’t deal too much harm. 

“Your wrap is coming loose,” Bokuto said, his eyes zeroed in on Akaashi’s wrist. 

Akaashi’s focus snapped to the injured area, where the blue cloth had started to completely unravel. Embarrassment rang in his ears as he pulled his wrist to his chest. “Oh uhm, yeah.” He cleared his throat, too much had happened today and it wasn’t even nine yet. “I’m not too good at dealing with this stuff so…” Why did he feel the need to defend himself?

“Here, I’ll fix it,” 

Without much more of a warning, Bokuto had used his index finger to hook Akaashi’s own, gently pulling his hand down in front of him. The sudden contact had caused an explosion of heat on Akaashi’s face, further spreading to the tips of his ears and very much likely down his neck. A small voice in the back of his head asked why the small bit of skin contact made him want to crumple to the floor, but the figure skater was unable to summon a comprehensible answer. 

Deft hands worked to pull off the compression wrap on Akaashi’s wrist, the calloused fingers occasionally brushing against the skin on his arm. 

“Thank you.” It had taken Akaashi _too_ long to find his voice in this situation.

Bokuto kept his eyes focused on the task at hand, carefully winding the cloth around the area. “It's no problem, I have to do this a lot for my team,” The coloring in his eyes warmed at the thought of the other hockey players as he twisted the remaining wrap through the gaps of Akaashi’s fingers. “I’m not as good at this as Asahi is, though.”

“Still better at it than me.” A bitter smile fought its way onto Akaashi’s face.

“Think of it this way,” Bokuto looked up into the figure skater’s eyes, his hands still around the newly wrapped wrist. “Skill comes from experience. So keep being bad at it- I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  
Akaashi’s brows furrowed. What was _that_? Was he hearing things correctly or did Bokuto just admit to caring about him? It shouldn’t have been surprising, but the way his heart stopped beating begged to differ.

Yet another thing to shove into the back of his mind, he wasn’t willing to look any further into the interaction- Akaashi wasn’t sure he’d be able to function if he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know they do nothing to the plot but i love writing small meaningless interactions even though people probably don't like reading them so i'm sorry for that, but i just really wanted to write for yamaguchi so uh,, forgive me


	9. Purple Hydrangeas (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto loves his team,  
> Akaashi has fun,  
> Nishinoya likes to jump on people.
> 
> Purple Hydrangeas: A Deep Understanding Of Someone  
> Wow a Song: Are You Bored Yet? -Wallows (bonus points if it's the acoustic version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one:  
> akaashi: if i had to use one word to describe the way bokuto compliments me all the time and holds my hand in the rink, it would be Platonic <3
> 
> and thats basically a summary of the entire fic so far huh

_Feels like I've known you my whole life_   
_I can see right through your lies_   
_I don't know where we're going_   
_But I'd like to be by your side_

_______________

The chill of the rink made itself at home in Akaashi’s bones that morning.

He adjusted his gloves, his brows knitting in frustration when the black fabric caught on the compression wrap that was wound tightly on his wrist. Akaashi was vaguely conscious of the sharp cold that had sunk through his clothes, clinging to his form and attacking any exposed skin. He registered the goosebumps on his arms, but the burning sensation on his injured wrist continued to stay at the forefront of his mind.

Yes, it hurt as sprains often did, a dull pain flared up the ligament whenever he moved it too much from within its bright blue constraint. And yet the only sensation that grabbed at Akaashi’s attention with hooked fingers was the warmth that had stubbornly remained on the swollen skin beneath the compression wrap. Curiously enough, the heat seemed to have stayed in the exact places that Bokuto had steadied his hand to support Akaashi’s arm while he redid the wrap. Just the thought of it alone caused the red that he hated oh-so-much to bloom across his cheeks. With the bright colors Akaashi had been sporting on his face as of late, it seemed as though spring had come early.

He looked up, making brief eye contact with Bokuto as the hockey captain swerved across the expanse of ice separating them. It was easy for Akaashi to forget that Bokuto did in fact skate, seeing as though the latter had only seen the former on the ice. But now, it was plain as day the differences in which hockey players and figure skaters carried themselves as they moved. Bokuto sped across the ice with bursts and power and sudden swerves that would send Akaashi flying if he dared to try. The figure skater looked down at his skates as he glided slowly along the railing, did the slight alterations change that much? He had never noticed. 

The gleam of his footpick caught Akaashi’s eye- Bokuto definitely wouldn’t be able to do jumps without them. 

_Unless he plans to land on his face?_

Dull eyes traced their way back to the other boy, narrowing in on the short, rounded ends of his blades. Akaashi had never taken much interest in any sport other than figure skating, so he figured there couldn’t be much of a difference between that and hockey. He absentmindedly pulled at his fingers, ignoring the slight twinge in his wrist, he wouldn’t be able to show Bokuto much of anything. But when he first told Bokuto of his revelation, he didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all, instead of keeping a shining smile plastered to his face as he helped himself onto the ice, “ _We can still skate together, right Akaashi?_ ”. 

Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek, he didn’t understand this person at all. Without much thought, Akaashi watched the hockey captain maneuver his way around the rink, focusing on the way his muscles shifted under his shirt as he moved. 

_He’s the captain for a reason, right?_ the voice in Akaashi’s head crowed as his eyes narrowed in on the other boy’s legs when they tensed before a particularly sharp turn. 

Unlike any figure skater, Akaashi had come across, Bokuto held an undeniably muscular stature. He couldn’t help but wonder how well that translated to his performance in hockey. That wasn’t to say that Bokuto didn’t carry his own grace on the ice, it was much different than anything he had ever seen, though. It was sure, powerful, and sharp. 

The hollow slice of blades on the ice scraped against the walls of the empty building. 

“Hey hey hey! Did’ya see that, Akaashi!? Did you?” Bokuto was suddenly facing him, his hair a mess of misplaced spikes, and his eyes blown wide, the yellow in them once again taking strict control of Akaashi’s motor functions.

He smiled a spark of guilt igniting in his gut because he had only seen it due to him staring unabashedly at the outline of muscle on Bokuto’s calves. “That was much better this time, Bokuto,” With the prospect of jumps now out of the question, Akaashi was only able to teach Bokuto one thing- _teach_ being a very loose word to use in the situation. It was extremely simple, a mere pivot on his blades that served as a surprisingly quick half spin. He didn’t use it in competition, instead only executing it during practice when Oikawa needed a quick glare with little to no notice. He supposed it was a common trick almost everyone on the ice used, but Bokuto had been adamant to learn it once seeing him do it offhandedly. 

When Bokuto had first attempted it, he nearly fell flat on his face, and it was at that exact moment that Akaashi realized just how different their respective sports really were. However, after countless dizzying spins and failed attempts, the hockey captain was beginning to get the hang of it, the burst of power given to him from his skates allowing the half-spin to have more of a definitive _snap_ to it.

Akaashi pushed off of the railing to slide further toward the center of the rink, keeping a careful eye on Bokuto. It was interesting to watch him as he progressed- as simple as it was, he put all of his efforts into it.

Another sharp slice against the ice, and another spin. “Ah, man! Nishinoya would love this.”

The shorter energetic boy with a blond streak filled Akaashi’s head before he could give it permission to. “Nishinoya?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto looked up from his skates, angling the blades toward Akaashi. “You remember him, right? He was with me and Kuroo the other day.”

“He liked to jump on people.” Quick flashes of memory proved to be true as he recalled Kageyama’s startled shout when the smaller hockey player had planted his hands on his shoulders and hoisted himself into the air excitedly. Hinata had tried the same thing, with very different results as Kageyama was determined never to be taken by surprise again-

_“Come on Kageyama, let's put that in the short program!”_

_“Over my dead body, dumbass!”_

_“That’s the spirit!”_

A bark of laughter pulled Akaashi out of his reverie. Bokuto was closer now, the shine of his grin now capturing the entirety of the figure skater’s attention. “You get used to it. He just likes to play around like that.” 

Akaashi couldn’t imagine getting used to it. How could a team that chaotic get anything done? He vaguely remembered Suga telling him that the hockey team had won multiple state championships, but from what he had seen of them, he couldn’t exactly imagine it. 

Akaashi always skated alone, but he had witnessed more lessons of pair skating between Hinata and Kageyama than necessary. And while they may not have been a picture-perfect example, the pair skaters had to be in constant sync on the ice, a split second of faltering and their entire program could be at stake. Akaashi fought at the grimace on his face when he thought of trying to get the hockey players into the same rhythm as the pair skaters. Just the thought of it and he found a headache already banging from inside of his skull.

Akaashi looked up at the hockey captain who had stopped in front of him. “What’s your team like?” He hadn’t really processed the question before asking it, but he hadn’t found himself regretting it for a second, with the way Bokuto’s smile had widened tremendously.

“You wanna know about them?” he asked in response, shining yellow pinned Akaashi in place as Bokuto tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

Akaashi’s lungs pushed uncomfortably against his ribcage. “Yes,”

“Well, alright!” 

The figure skater’s breath caught in his throat when Bokuto took hold of his hands, leading him across the ice. “W-what are you doing?” His eyes snapped toward the point of contact, distractedly taking note of the way the grip on his left hand was pointedly loose around the compression wrap, to the point where he could barely feel the pressure of Bokuto’s hand around his. 

The sight of his hand in Bokuto’s own made the heat blossoming on his face feel just a little more justified this time.

“We’re skating,” was his response, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Okay, so who should I start with?”

Bokuto’s tone was light as he gently pulled Akaashi around the rink, leading him through pointless circles and loops. An airy “ _ah_ ” left his mouth as he decided on his first subject. “Well there’s Kuroo, he’s my best friend! You guys’ve met, I’m pretty sure. He thinks you’re funny.”

_That so?_

Akaashi’s interactions with the bedhead hockey player had been few and far between, but the boy’s smirk had left a lasting impression. Kuroo certainly had an array of friends, he noticed. Kenma and Bokuto couldn’t be any more different and yet he seemed comfortable around both of them. This caught Akaashi’s attention, but he wasn’t able to dwell on it for long before Bokuto decided to switch to rambling about someone else. 

“Daichi’s the vice-captain, he’s all serious and responsible. Sometimes he acts more like a captain than I do!” Bokuto’s hearty laughter bounced off of the walls. “But he’s pretty great.”

“I’ve met him, Suga introduced us,” Akaashi said, looking down to where their hands were still connected, his fingers carefully folded into Bokuto’s palm. A bubble of amusement rose from within him when he realized that, despite Bokuto’s height advantage, it seemed like his hands were smaller than Akaashi’s own.

“Oh right! Those two hang out a lot. I’m pretty sure they’ve known each other for a while.”

“Suga says they’ve had classes together before…” the figure skater mused, lazily pivoting on his blades to follow Bokuto into another tight circle.

Akaashi wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, when he peeked up at the windows that hung near the ceiling of the rink, the bright blue of the sky glared back at him. But that wasn’t the only thing that held his gaze- Bokuto’s eyes hadn’t left him for what seemed to be the entire time that they were together. The edges of the usually intense yellow had softened, tracing a path along the ridge of Akaashi’s nose and holding the dull blue with tentative care.

He rattled on about each individual player, making sure to highlight their best qualities and show just how they helped keep the team together. The captain indulged him in a handful of stories of his team, of times on and off the ice, through occasions both happy and sad- like the time their goaltender, Asahi, had quit for a period of time and Nishinoya had followed soon after. Or the time Aone scared away the freshman they were going to recruit for the team and had been upset about it the entire week (“ _Could you believe it, Akaashi? The two biggest guys on our team are also our biggest softies!_ ”).

Though his explanation seemed endless, Akaashi found himself hanging onto every word, sinking into the warmth that came from Bokuto’s hands and the fond, ever-present smile that always appeared when he talked about his hockey team. They were a family to him, that much was obvious. The bunch may not have been fully functional at all times, but from what Akaashi was able to piece together, they pulled through no matter the situation. 

When Bokuto’s talk inevitably ended so too did their impromptu skate across the rink. Akaashi had been laughing at a story involving Tanaka, Daichi, and a trip to the hospital when they had slid to a stop. He was no longer cold, his hand remained snug in Bokuto’s despite the uncomfortable warmth that had built there, and he felt light as if a strong gust of wind had pushed through him. There, in the middle of the ice, laughing freely under the appreciative gaze of the hockey captain, Akaashi felt more relaxed than he had been in weeks. It was odd, the unpredictable tight feeling in his chest even almost felt pleasant at that moment. 

The last of the pair’s giggling had saturated into the walls and left them in a hesitant silence before Akaashi’s brain caught up with him, and further persuaded him to slip his hands out of the warmth that they had grown accustomed to. He wasn’t sure if the red on his face was from the cold or… something else but, either way, he forced his gaze away from the boy in front of him.

“Thanks for skating with me,” Bokuto said before the figure skater could simmer with his thoughts any further, bringing a hand up to mess with the crown of silver spikes that sat atop his head. A small, lopsided smile pushed at the corner of one of his eyes as he kept the yellow trained on Akaashi.

“I still don’t really understand why we did it, but it was fun?” It was all Akaashi was able to offer in response, because truth be told he didn’t understand the purpose of aimlessly sliding around the ice. Was it to distract him from the prospect of the upcoming competition season? Or perhaps Bokuto found the way his cheeks glowed red to be amusing?

Bokuto cocked his head to the side like a dog that had heard something interesting. “But that was the point.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow.

“ _To have fun_!” The hockey captain raised his hands above his head, expression purely incredulous. “Don’t you ever skate to just have fun?”

A teasing smile pulled at the ends of Akaashi’s mouth. “When I was ten, maybe?”

“You mean to tell me that you come here almost every single day _just_ to practice?”

“Yes..?”

“ _Akaashi_ ,” silver eyebrows furrowed as Bokuto stuck his lower lip out- wait, _was he pouting_? “You shouldn’t work so hard all the time. Relax some more would you?”

A burst of quiet laughter left Akaashi as he witnessed the playfully exasperated Bokuto slide around on the ice. He seemed to have thrown himself into another spiel, adamant that, yes, practice was important but people should be allowed to take the time to have some fun every now and then. 

“Bokuto,” he called before the hockey captain dug himself too far into his speech. “I practice so much because to me it _is_ fun.” He shrugged when Bokuto turned his full attention back to him. “To me, when I land a jump or do a clean run-through of my program, it's fun- I enjoy it.”

“Oh,” Bokuto lowered his raised arms, letting his hands fall comically limp at his sides. “You come here all the time to practice because it’s fun.”

Akaashi nodded, an amused smile making itself known on his face.

“And I took that away from you today, didn’t I?”

The figure skater blinked. _Oh, so that’s what he’s thinking._

Bokuto wasn’t exactly wrong in making the assumption that he pulled Akaashi away from his practice hours. By all means, he did, but strangely enough, Akaashi found that he didn’t much mind it. He enjoyed hearing the hockey captain talk about his team, how he saw them, and how much they mattered to him. It was as if Akaashi was finally getting to know the boisterous stranger that had walked in on his practice all those weeks ago.

He looked back up at Bokuto, taking in his dejected expression. “It’s okay, I didn’t mind it, really. When I said I had fun earlier I wasn’t lying.”

“Really?”

His smile widened a fraction. “Really.”

A thoughtful look passed over Bokuto’s face. “Still Akaashi, I’m sorry for messing up your practice.” His eyes flicked upward toward the clock bolstered to the wall on the far side of the room. There was no way he was able to read the time from so far away, and the way he squinted his eyes showcased this. “But we should still have time, right?”

It was Akaashi’s turn to tilt his head. “Hm?”

Bokuto turned sharply on his blades, a hopeful light filled his eyes. “Skate for me Akaashi! Please?” 

Hazy confusion overtook the free space in Akaashi’s head, he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t expecting that. The boy was so sporadic and unpredictable that everything he said left Akaashi tense with hesitant anticipation. “You want me to..?”

“Skate for me,” Bokuto repeated to the frazzled figure skater. “If you’re okay with it, I want to watch you skate again.”

_But why me?_

Traitorous flashes of Bokuto running up to Oikawa caused Akaashi to blank. The excited look on Bokuto’s face when Oikawa had finished his program and the painful bruises that had decorated Akaashi’s knees like violent dabs of paint- the images filled his eyes. Everything felt so fresh, he could practically feel the faint throbbing on his knees of the ugly, skin-deep wounds that had faded days ago.

“Because watching you skate is like, my favorite thing in the whole world. You’re the best I’ve ever seen.” 

Apparently, he had said his thoughts out loud, and Bokuto’s reply caused him to look up. The yellow of the other boy’s eyes filled his vision, effectively pushing away any thoughts of what had happened last week. It seemed as though whenever Akaashi’s thoughts turned negative, Bokuto was there to distract him.

Disbelief washed over him as the captain’s words sunk into his brain. “I’m definitely not the best, stop trying to flatter me.” He pushed himself into an awkward circle as nervous energy ate at his legs and urged him to move. “Oikawa’s a lot better, really.”

He said it. It was a known fact that Oikawa’s skill was the closest thing to perfection that the small town rink would ever see, but that didn’t stop the sinking feeling in his gut when he said it out loud in front of the hockey captain. When Bokuto had first seen Akaashi skate, the look he held had stuck with Akaashi, and after some time, he loathed to admit that he didn’t exactly want to let it go. As much as Oikawa deserved the praise for his obvious skill, Akaashi desperately wanted someone, anyone really, to look at him the way Bokuto did- as if he were his whole world. 

It was selfish of him, he knew this, but he couldn’t help it.

“No way! Akaashi you’re the best, I mean it!”

The figure skater shot him a look over his shoulder, one that was comparable to the way teachers looked at their student when they claimed that “- _no really, my dog ate my homework I swear!_ ”.

Akaashi sighed and this fueled Bokuto to throw himself into a jumbled explanation, running his fingers through the messed up spikes all the while. “When you skate, it's a lot different than Oikawa? It’s hard to explain, I guess. The way you look out there- it’s like it's more thought out. Like there's meaning behind every little thing you do. Oikawa doesn’t have anything like that. And I think that's cool...” He ended on an unsure note, his eyes darting up to meet Akaashi’s so as to make sure he understood what he was trying to say. He almost looked shy.

He had to fight off the pink that threatened to make itself known on his face, Akaashi didn’t think Bokuto would be so perceptive. He was then reminded of the intense near-gold in his eyes that had been pinpointed on him from the sidelines.

_So he really was watching me, then?_

“Okay, I’ll skate,” Akaashi said, turning to station himself in the center of the rink. “But I’m telling Oikawa what you said-”

“Wait Akaashi no!”

It was odd, the way Bokuto had begun to grow on him. Only a few weeks ago, Akaashi would squirm uncomfortably under the hockey captain’s gaze. But now, as he propelled himself through his combinations, he looked for the flashes of yellow from the side. As he launched himself into the air, he pushed the memory of Bokuto’s excited expression upon seeing Oikawa skate and instead worked even harder to capture his attention instead.

He recognized the selfish internal plea that bounced off of his ribs. It was a desperate, silent cry- one that he never found himself entertaining until now. But if anything was true, it was that Bokuto was the exception.

_Please, keep your eyes on me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll make fun of him being oblivious but i'd honestly be doing the same thing if i were him so uh,, projecting i guess?


	10. Amaryllis (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi has a migraine,  
> Daichi is tired,  
> Bokuto is late.
> 
> Amaryllis: Pride  
> Wow a Song: Telescope -Cavetown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured kenma wouldn't take a gameboy to school? playing on his phone might be easier to pull off in the middle of class i guess
> 
> this sort of turned into a bit of filler chapter because i had to cut her in half please forgive me  
> the rest should be out soon??? maybe?

_I'll figure out tonight what it is I need to do_   
_Fabricate a lie and relay it back to you_   
_In my head, it's only letters_   
_Make it make sense to make it better_

_______________

Akaashi Keiji found that he spent a sizable amount of his time waiting- which was fine, he considered himself a patient person. To him, waiting was just another part of living. Because all the best opportunities seemed to arrive fashionably late.

But there were moments that it made something inside of him squirm uncomfortably because to wait was to waste time. And time was a finite source granted to him, to the point where it felt like an imaginary clock had made itself at home behind his eyes, the mechanical tick of its hands keeping in time with the beating of his heart in a rhythmic pulse. Some part of it was comforting, to know that there would be no surprises with this clock, he knew that after twelve, the hour hand would move onward to one and that its orbit around the center of the device would never end. No end, no beginning, and no stops or skips, just a repetitive and reliable cycle. 

For the same reasons, the clock was a cause for nervousness. It never stopped. There were no breaks with this clock -or _any_ clocks for that matter- even when Akaashi desperately needed one. For the moments when time suddenly felt heavy and physical and overwhelming and all he wanted was a chance to breathe, to stop, and to pick up the pieces of himself that had given in from the pressure. He was never allowed that chance though. The hands of the clock would keep at it, dutifully revolving around the center point without any give. And they wouldn’t stop, at least not until the batteries of the clock had finally died, and Akaashi would never know when that was going to happen, but the thought of it kept him up at night- the clock, the batteries, and the incessant _ticking_ that echoed in his head.

Akaashi blew at a stray curl that was tickling his forehead. He was a patient person to an _extent_. But the loud ticks that reverberated from the inside of his skull only fed his migraine. The seconds seemed to drag, as customary of a Thursday spent in a stuffy room with faulty air conditioning. He had zoned out, his eyes were caught on the ink smudge that marred the sloppy drawl of his writing. Akaashi was distantly aware of his english teacher’s lecture, the uneven punctuation of her words pierced his temples and made him close his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. 

_I should’ve just stayed in bed…_

Ever since Akaashi was jerked awake by the chipper tones of his alarm, he knew the day wouldn’t go well. Call him a pessimist, but the feeling in his bones only made him want to sink back under the comforter and sulk. Since then he was late to his first class of the day, got paint on his favorite jeans, and had been nursing a migraine, meanwhile, it wasn’t even noon. The persistent push of plastic against his temples only served to remind him that he had been running late that morning, and had forgotten to put his contacts in. So add that to the list.

The monotone call of the bell filled the classroom and flooded the hallways, jarring him from his thoughts that were most certainly not about the upcoming assignment, much to his teacher’s irritation. It was impossible to get students to pay attention right before lunch, she had to know this much after nearly fifteen years of her profession. Twenty chairs simultaneously scrapped against the tile flooring as everyone rushed to collect their things and push their way out of the door. Akaashi added to the battlefield of scuff marks on the cheap tile as he sat back and shoved all of his papers into his binder. He had time before he had to leave, after all, Kenma was likely still working his way around to pausing his game.

A sigh forced its way past Akaashi’s lips when the solid weight of his bookbag dug into his shoulders. He edged past the couple of students that usually stayed back to talk to the teacher, trying his hardest not to make eye contact lest he be dragged into a conversation. Akaashi enjoyed his english class well enough, he supposed. The criteria of the course were interesting to a degree but generally revolved around class discussion, and that much he could go without. He got by in dishing input when required, before turning back to his individual assignments. 

He never liked class discussions, too many opinions, and counterarguments and _building off of so-and-so's statement_ \- it gave him a headache. 

The natural darkened roots of Kenma’s hair peeked above the stack of books piled high on his desk. His head was bent down, and it didn’t take much to figure that he was still engrossed in the newest game on his phone. Further inspection found his theory to be true, his thumbs danced across the screen and caused an array of blinding colors. Akaashi didn’t understand it and vied to leave it at that. 

Since waiting was just another part of living, Akaashi busied his hands by taking care to tuck Kenma’s loose papers into the pockets of his folders, straightening out the mess of sloppy notes and brick-like textbooks on the surface of his desk while the other boy finished up. Nothing was said between the two until Kenma finally looked up from his phone screen, and blinked a few times to adjust to the light change. For a split second, the wide-eyed look in Kenma’s eyes was purely cat-like, it was something that Kuroo had teased him about countless times, causing him to earn the nickname that he dared not say.

“Art room, right?” Kenma asked, complying with the other boy and putting away his papers.

Akaashi nodded. At first, he found it hard to believe that Kenma actually paid attention to his surroundings while he tapped away at his phone, but it only made sense, seeing as though he mainly spent class time trying to better his high score at a new game, and still was able to turn in college-level assignments. 

The pair ambled down the hallway, the dim and yellowed lights overhead casting fuzzy shadows against the dull sheen of the tile. Every step he took knocked against his skull and caused Akaashi’s grip to tighten on the straps of his bag. The distant yells of overeager highschoolers bounced off the walls in the direction of the cafeteria, but the two of them turned the opposite way, toward the art studio that lay at the end of the wing. 

He wasn’t in a hurry to reach the cafeteria, and it seemed that Kenma shared his unspoken interest, his tired eyes were cast down at his phone as he walked alongside him at a slow pace. They traveled in comfortable silence, it was something that Akaashi was thankful for when in the blond’s company. Both of them found that they almost never spoke unprompted, so when together, it was almost always deathly quiet as the two of them knew what needed to be said and what didn’t. It was a mutual understanding that was never exactly explained but acknowledged.

Eyes wandered to the boards drilled into the walls of the hallway, littered with obnoxiously bright papers that advertised club events. Quick displays of the works from the photography and art classes demanded his attention as he passed them, and Akaashi recognized the muddy collage of oil pastel pieces that belonged to the freshman art students.

Akaashi had never liked doing that project very much.

Behind them came the heavy sound of a classroom door closing shut. Judging by the faint but all-too-familiar smell of sulfur that came with it, it must’ve been one of the chemistry classes. Something in the back of Akaashi’s head chimed that he should have risked a quick glance over his shoulder, because if he did he wouldn’t have been too surprised when-

“Hey hey, what do we have here? Kitten, don’t you know that walking and texting is a hazard?”

Akaashi jumped out of his skin.

Kenma sunk down into an inhumanly long sigh. Nearly inaudible, the pudding head only muttered “ _you’re a hazard_ ” without even looking up.

Kuroo slung an arm around an unwilling Kenma and joined the pair -now trio- on their trek down the end of the east wing. He looked to have been preoccupied before he made his presence known, as illustrated by the very-much-stained lab apron he was sporting. The smell of sulfur and chemicals stung Akaashi’s nose and only worked to worsen his headache.

“You stink,” Kenma voiced Akaashi’s very thoughts as he weakly elbowed Kuroo’s ribs, more of a nudge than anything that didn’t do much to shake the bedhead from the shorter boy’s side.

“Sorry about that!” Kuroo crowed and only leaned further into the other boy, peering down at his phone. “We were in the middle of a demonstration and I had to go deliver something to the other chemistry room. I’ve been a mail boy ever since.”

A proud smirk grew on Kuroo’s face as he held up the sticky note on his middle finger, the bright green paper sported a quick note and a… stick figure? Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed, it looked like something a student would pass around class.

The lack of Kenma’s response spurred Kuroo into conversation with the only other person which was, unfortunately, Akaashi.

“So what’re you guys doing out in my neck of the woods?” a faux look of surprise fell upon Kuroo’s face as he gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re skipping class?! Akaashi I knew you were a bad influence on Kenma.”

“We’re out to lunch,” was all Akaashi could summon up, the fatigue from his english class lecture had yet to fully wear off.

Before Kuroo could say anything, the blond between the two of them decided to speak up. “We have to pick something up from the art room first, though.”

“Oh? I’m intrigued. What are we getting?”

Akaashi had to physically fight off a sigh. “A canvas.”

As they neared the door to the art studio, Akaashi left the rest of the conversation for Kenma to uphold. He alone slipped through the gap left by the doorstop and let the warmth of the empty classroom wash over him. Akaashi had found that the art room was always warm, as the high-set windows that stretched along the back wall were positioned in just a way that let in more raw sunlight than any other room in the wing. Thick curtains of natural light streamed from the paned glass, falling over the closest lines of desks and taking silent responsibility for the odd shadows that were splayed around the room. 

Low notes of acoustic music filled the room, making space feel cozier despite the distinct lack of life. The teacher was out at a meeting at the moment, but she left the door open for Akaashi as she knew he’d be coming. For what felt to be the first time that week, Akaashi allowed himself a deep, grounding breath. He knew he was wasting time and taking Kenma’s patience for granted as the muffled voice of Kuroo proved. But in the empty art room, time seemed to move slower, more sluggish under the warmth of the midday sun accompanied by the quiet plucking of guitar strings. It was a welcome feeling.

Without much more fanfare, Akaashi plucked the needed canvas from his recently organized portfolio, the thin cloth cover moving easily under his grip. In the corner of his eye, the darkened colors of the piece showed through the worn canvas cover, causing a frown to weigh down at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t much of a secret that Akaashi hated painting with his entire being. To him, the process was purely frustrating- the colors never seemed to mix properly and for the life of him, Akaashi could never push the acrylic around the canvas the exact way he needed it. But a grade was a grade, and the due date of the piece loomed over him like an impending storm, so he caved and chose to take the damned thing home in order to finish the detail work.

“Ah, so our little Piccaso joins us?” A smirk found permanent residence on Kuroo’s face as Akaashi kicked the doorstop out of its place, allowing the door to close behind him with a heavy thud.

“Is that my name now?” Akaashi asked, quirking an eyebrow while he tucked the canvas under his arm.

The taller boy only offered a shrug. “I have to get going, I’m still on as the messenger boy. But I just wanted to remind you about practice today, I figured you’d forget.”

A single blink was all that Akaashi let slip in his silent surprise. He _did_ forget. Not that he’d ever tell Kuroo that.

For the past two weeks, Bokuto had visited Akaashi during his practice at the rink, sometimes even during his early morning hours. It wasn’t that Akaashi really minded anymore, he just couldn’t wrap his head around how the hockey captain found it so incredibly interesting to watch _him_ skate. His demands were innocent enough, never deviating from the original request of that particularly warm summer morning two weeks ago- “ _skate for me_ ”. More often than not, a compulsory “please Akaashi” was tacked on the end, the last of the syllables taking on a whining lilt when the figure skater first showed hesitation

But in the end, he always gave in.

He had even come in on Tuesdays when coach Takeda made his weekly visit to his students. It was an accident the first time, Bokuto made sure to swear up and down that it was when Suga asked him about it, and he allowed the boisterous hockey player to sit in and watch nonetheless. But of course, Bokuto’s promise to remain quiet wouldn’t last when Akaashi finished showing the coach his progress on his long program. As soon as the blades of his skates came to a full stop, Bokuto ended up resuming his usual overwhelming bouts of praise. To say coach Takeda had been surprised was an understatement. 

_“A friend of yours, Akaashi?” the coach asked, a hand flying up to readjust his glasses._

_He barely had any time to catch his breath before Oikawa butted in._

_“‘Kaashi has got himself a bit of a fan club now.” the brunette stated, a matter-of-fact edge in his voice as he turned to give Bokuto a wave from behind the protective railing._

When he thought about it, it was surprising that it had taken Akaashi so long to return Bokuto’s gesture of support and finally go to one of the hockey practices. It wasn’t like it was out of the way or anything, but he wasn’t sure if he would be a bother if he went. Akaashi hadn’t considered going until Bokuto started talking about his upcoming game, the first of his season. The captain had been in the middle of talking about the rival team when he stopped mid-sentence to give him a calculating look. _“Do you wanna come to my practice?”_ His voice was hesitant, a hopeful pitch hanging in the air between the two of them as they walked to the rink together. 

Without much thought, Akaashi accepted the invitation and reveled in the bright grin that adorned Bokuto’s face afterward... 

...and of course, he had forgotten all about it. It was the first (and only) time in his life that Akaashi was thankful for Kuroo’s pestering.

He should’ve taken the bus. He realized this as he climbed the steps of the entrance to the building that promised an escape from the August heat. Kuroo had reminded him of hockey practice but failed to mention a time, and at the fear of being late Akaashi had made his way to the rink right after the last bell- which was a mistake that he was quickly coming to terms with.

The front door uttered a heavy groan as he pushed his way into the foyer, willing himself not to slump over with exhaustion when the cold of the rink settled onto his bare skin. The sticky heat from before ebbed away, leaving only seemingly permanent tiredness in his bones and damp curls that lay against the back of his neck. Walking through the doorway leading to the main room, Akaashi ran a hand through his hair, discomfort simmering under his skin when the warmth from the sun remained in the dark strands. 

If there was one thing that was glaringly obvious, it was that the environment created by the hockey players was like a different world when compared to the Tuesdays that the figure skaters got together. It felt deafening and the air was charged with unspent energy as the voices of the boys filled the space and made the rink feel infinitely smaller. 

Surprisingly, the most easily identifiable person in the group of boys was also the shortest. Nishinoya often reminded Akaashi of a small dog: he was prone to jumping on people, he was loud for his size, and Akaashi was pretty sure that he had seen the hockey player take a bite out of Kageyama’s shoulder before. At the moment he was sitting on another boy’s back, working his way onto the giant’s shoulders.

“Don’t mind it Asahi!” Nishinoya shouted, roughly patting the other boy’s shoulders. “We’ll get ‘em! No need to be nervous!”

The other boy (Asahi?) shifted from foot to foot, as if there wasn’t an entire person scaling him like a building. He seemed to be having a conversation with Daichi and Suga, most likely about the upcoming game. “But I heard they have really aggressive players.”

“Ha!” Nishinoya barked, completely missing the exchange of pointed looks that Daichi and Suga were giving one another. “There’s nothing to worry about, I’ll just have to teach them a lesson or two!”

Daichi ran a hand through his hair and sighed, it was reminiscent of a tired parent that had to clean up after their children too many times to count. “No, that won’t be necessary.” Getting a better look at him, Daichi looked exhausted. Faint dark smudges were settled under his eyes and his hair was ruffled, characteristic of someone who had run their hand through it too much. The vice captain’s eyes flicked up to meet Akaashi and without much hesitation, a warm smile lit up his face. “Oh, it's you. It's good to see you again.”

Akaashi figured that was his cue to step forward and join the small group that had crowded Suga at the counter. He felt himself heat up under the gazes of the hockey players, nearly tucking the canvas behind his back. “Likewise.”

“How formal,” he heard Nishinoya mutter from the safety of his heightened perch.

“Did you come here right after school?” Suga asked, propping his chin on his palm and furrowing his eyebrows the slightest bit. 

Akaashi nodded, ignoring the urge to mess with his fingers. He felt like he was standing wrong like he was either too still or moving around too much. It was something he should've grown used to by now, but he couldn’t help but feel unsure of how to compose himself around this new group of people he knew nothing about. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I wasn’t fully sure about the time so I figured I’d just come over.”

Suga kissed his teeth, a few stray strands of grey hair fell out of place and bumped against his nose. “I guess that’s on Bokuto, huh?”

“Oh! You must be Akaashi?”

His head jerked to look at the source of the voice and landed on the questioning expression of Asahi. The taller boy’s brown hair was pulled back tight into a bun, and his eyes seemed to be screwed into a permanent look of worry. He looked kind, Akaashi figured, despite his initially intimidating stature this person actually came across as anything but.

But that wasn’t enough to stop the onslaught of confusion that surely showed on Akaashi’s face. “Uhm, yes?”

“I didn’t mean to startle you or anything!” he said, nervousness sparked behind the brown in his eyes as he held out his hand. “I’ve just heard great things about you. I’m Asahi.”

Akaashi took the hand offered to him, feeling a bit more at ease under the soft smile Asahi adopted. He wasn’t able to say much more, though, because a shout caught everyone’s attention.

“Daichi! Did you text Bokuto?”

A man with dyed blond hair made his way over to the vice-captain, he stood slightly shorter than Akaashi and the piercings on his left ear caught on the lights of the rink. He carried with him the sharp smell of cigarettes and the trademark look of exhaustion that nearly every adult Akaashi came across had. The man crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, the action caused his hair to threaten to fall out of the thin headbands keeping them in place.

“I did,” Daichi replied, leveling his gaze with the man. “He said he was on his way, something held him up.”

The man sighed, running a calloused hand down the side of his face. “I swear- of all the people to be late it's the _captain_.” His dark eyes met the confused blue of Akaashi’s, and in a moment of deja vu the man’s eyebrows scrunched up. “You’re not one of my boys, at least I don’t think so... who are you?”

“Oh, uh-”

Who was Akaashi again? _Oh, I’m friends with the captain, you know, the one you’re currently pissed at for being late? Yeah him._

He bit his tongue, his impending response called for more thinking than he thought it would.

“ _Hey hey hey, Agaashi_! You made it!”

A hand came down on his shoulder, its grip wasn’t painfully tight but it scared the unsuspecting figure skater nonetheless. Standing close behind him in all his glory was the man of the hour. As usual, Bokuto was nothing but bright- the excited gleam in his smile, the shine of his silver hair that seemed to be a bit more roughed up than usual, and the light yellow of his shirt made Akaashi squint in order to give his burning corneas some respite. It made him realize that he had never seen Bokuto in anything but workout clothes. His eyes trailed down the hockey captain’s black jeans and settled at the worn sneakers he was wearing, the irritating owl doodle on the fabric of his shoes stared back up at him. It was different but Akaashi had to admit, it was something he could get used to seeing.

“Hi, Bokuto,” Akaashi replied instead, shifting the weight of his bookbag on his shoulders.

“Coach!” Bokuto said as if greeting an old friend. “Sorry I was late, but this is Akaashi, y’know, the one I told you about? He’s gonna watch us today.”

“Bokuto,” the hockey coach started, giving up on his sentence before even bothering to finish it. “Just get ready, I have papers to go over.” he turned to look at where the rest of his players had gathered. “Everyone get on the ice and get warmed up! We don’t have much time.”

The hockey players around Akaashi scrambled to pull on their jerseys and lace up their skates, save for their captain, who ducked into the locker room, pulling along his duffle bag in the walk of shame to the back.

“You know…” Suga said, pulling at his attention as he leaned back from the counter. “If Oikawa keeps staring at you, I’m pretty sure his eyes are going to melt into your brain.”

A confused noise left Akaashi as he swiveled on his heel to look for the familiar swoop of brown hair. His eyes eventually found the only other figure skater in the building, and Akaashi’s shoulders slumped a fraction at the way Oikawa waved him over. His hope of relaxing had just been crushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the sweet comments i really appreciate them! it makes me happy to know that people are enjoying something that i would normally just keep tucked away in my google docs for a few years lmao


	11. Amaryllis (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto gets hurt,  
> Akaashi is embarrassed,  
> Kuroo is amused.
> 
> Amaryllis: Pride  
> Wow a Song: Telescope -Cavetown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i find its very easy to write for a character that overthinks every little thing when you, yourself overthink as well.

_Sittin' in a telescope_   
_Silently, with his fingers entwined_   
_He puts his hand to the glass_   
_What's it like outside?_

_______________

Oikawa had been acting weird lately.

Akaashi had known him for years, seen the many faces that he had to offer but even _this_ was something different. Looking back on it, the peculiar behaviour had to have started a month ago, around the time that the hockey team invaded the rink. The cause of it could’ve been multiple things, after all the school year had just started, and competition season was an arm’s reach away. Could it have been the hockey team? After all, they were a cause of stress for Akaashi. But perhaps that was for a different reason… 

Oikawa’s odd behaviour seemed most prominent when Bokuto took the opportunity to drag Akaashi into conversation, which happened increasingly often. More than once, Akaashi had seen the particular expression Oikawa wore while Bokuto excitedly prattled on to him. Could he have been jealous? 

_Jealous of what, exactly?_

When he thought about it, Oikawa didn’t act like he wanted Akaashi’s or even Bokuto’s attention- at least, no more so than usual. No, the brunette didn’t carry with him the expression of envy. The way his eyebrows rose and how his eyes remained bright but calculating, if anything he was _thinking_.

A shiver wracked its way down Akaashi’s spine at the mere thought of it. He didn’t like it when Oikawa used his brain, because more often than not he used it for all the wrong reasons. Anything involving him and Bokuto being put under Oikawa’s spotlight caused unease to churn in Akaashi’s gut. He felt like an ant that was being lit on fire from some sadistic kid’s magnifying glass, only it wasn’t a kid, it was a peppy eighteen year old with a scheming smirk and a bad knee.

The pure unspoken aspect of it all caused Akaashi’s mind to spiral, his train of thought derailing so many times that the individual cars were long ago separated onto several different tracks. He buried his hands into his hair, his fingers tugging on the untamed curls near his scalp. Oikawa was acting differently, but why?

“God ‘Kaashi, _he’s so hot_.”

Well, maybe he wasn’t acting that differently.

Akaashi peeked up from his silent breakdown, his eyes had been previously trained on the floor, hyper-focusing on the scuff mark by his shoe. He wasn’t exactly sure how long ago hockey practice had started, but by now the players had broken off into groups, doing various different drills that he failed to name and understand. Oikawa was seated next to him on the small bench, a tight smile pulling at his mouth as his eyes shined, the person of interest undoubtedly reflecting off of the rich brown they held.

He couldn’t help but hesitate. _So that was why Oikawa had been sitting in on the hockey practice?_ It made sense. 

Truth be told, Oikawa _terrified_ Akaashi. The two of them were exact opposites. Oikawa carried himself much differently, pride taking its effect on his posture and his way of speaking. He was more open with his opinions to the point where it bordered on rude, and had an undeniable soft spot for any form of gossip. Akaashi respected Oikawa, but would sometimes rather do so from a safe distance. He just couldn’t understand how Oikawa was able to live life with such a loose mouth.

“Do you see him?” Oikawa asked, jerking him from yet another mental spiral with a needy hand making a grab at his bicep. “He’s over next to Kuroo.”

Akaashi took his time in taking a deep inhale, it seemed he wasn’t going to get away with this conversation being one-sided. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Iwaizumi, isn’t he hot?” 

“Is this why you’ve been staying back on Tuesdays?”

Oikawa looked at him through the curled ends of his hair. “Of course, do you even have to ask? I mean, look at him.”

The boy in question stood a little shorter than others around him. His short hair was ruffled into brown, messy spikes, only working to add the slightest bit of height to him. His dark eyes were shadowed by furrowed eyebrows, the corner of his mouth being pulled into a contemplative frown. It didn’t take much of a prying assessment to realize that Iwaizumi was clearly muscular, the way he filled out the arms of his jersey attested to the fact. 

Akaashi sat back, pushing his spine against the concrete wall behind him. “You really do have a type, don’t you?”

“Is it obvious?”

The raven-haired figure skater only hummed in response. He had known Oikawa for years, and it still amazed him how open he was as a person. If he thought someone was attractive, he was more than willing to let that person know.

The two figure skaters watched as Iwaizumi continued his conversation with Kuroo and the other boy beside him. Akaashi wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed the other boy before, he was easily the most intimidating person he had ever seen.

He stood over six feet tall, his shock of white hair catching on the lights of the rink. The boy’s face was molded into a serious expression as he intently listened to what Iwaizumi had to say, only giving a reaffirming nod to show he understood. Akaashi thought back to Bokuto’s crash course of the hockey team, attempting to summon the information about the absolute tree of a person that stood in front of him on the ice.

Could this be Aone? Thinking back on it, it was suddenly very possible that this was the person to scare away the freshman from before. “ _He’s just a big softie, Akaashi!_ ” Bokuto’s cheerful voice rang through his head as Akaashi watched him plant himself between an arguing Nishinoya and Iwaizumi. Was he the peacekeeper of the team? He worked hard to try to see Aone fit the description that Bokuto had created for him.

Akaashi then looked out at the rest of the team, fully taking them in for the first time. There seemed to be eight players spread out on the ice, each of them dutifully working at their drills. He tried to wrack his brain of everything Bokuto had said about them, but instead of remembering Tanaka’s favorite color or how many times Nishinoya had to get dental work done after a game, the only thing that came to mind was how warm the hockey captain’s hands were. 

He involuntarily flexed his hand, watching as his nails dully bit into the flesh of his palm and left reddening crescent marks. His wrist had started to feel better a couple of days ago, and Akaashi was more than happy to ditch the troublesome compression wrap. However, in the time that he had become acquainted with the bright cloth and the uncomfortable stiffness that came with it, Bokuto had taken it upon himself to fix the wrapping. Nearly every single time the two of them met up at the rink, Akaashi had found his injured wrist in the hockey player’s care, his calloused fingers deftly winding the wrap around the boy’s wrist while his other hand held Akaasi’s own to still it. 

_“How am I so bad at this?” Akaashi had muttered to himself while Bokuto yet again rewrapped the cloth._

_The hockey captain only took the empty silence that followed as an opportunity to laugh. “It's not a big deal, Akaashi. I don’t mind helping you out.”_

_He didn’t justify the other boy with an actual response, instead opting to look up at him with a tired expression, his eyebrows knit tight as his lips pushed themselves into a thin line._

_“Really, I don’t!” Bokuto reassured, a smile spreading across his face while he finished tying off the excess wrap. “You don’t have to be good at everything, it's okay to ask for help every now and then.”_

_Akaashi only looked down to where Bokuto’s hand remained holding his fingers._

It was then Akaashi learned that Bokuto could be surprisingly gentle when he tried to be. It wasn’t something he expected, if he were to be honest with himself. The only side of Bokuto Akaashi had seen up until then was loud, bordering on obnoxious as he spoke excitedly, the extravagant waving of his arms only working to emphasize whatever point he was making. But if the past two weeks had left him with anything, it was how gently his hand wrapped itself around Akaashi’s, and how the warmth of his fingers seemed to stain his skin even hours after they left. 

Just thinking back to it left an impressionable warmth on his cheeks. 

With a muffled groan, Akaashi’s hands slid up to cover his face, his eyes only visible from the loose gaps between his fingers. He had turned to thinking about those times too often for his liking. It was distracting, yanking on the edges of his attention like a needy child, its sticky fingers happening upon him during the most unpredictable moments. Something heavy sunk to the bottom of his gut, he didn’t have the leisure to be distracted by such useless things.

“Well, that’s a new shade of red,” Oikawa smirked beside him, pinning Akaashi in place with a gaze that picked him apart, molecule by molecule. “It really brings out your eyes, ‘Kaashi.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, pointedly looking away from Oikawa and instead redirecting his focus toward Asahi as he lunged to deflect a puck from the net. 

Oikawa huffed, obviously not amused by Akaashi’s attempt to feign ignorance. “Oh come on, I know you’re not that self aware but even _this_ is pushing it.”

Blue met brown as Akaashi shot a frown at the other figure skater. “I’m not sure what you mean, but I hope for your sake that you’re not jumping to conclusions again.” 

“Okay well now you’re just being threatening.” The brunette sat back, folding his arms against his chest while he kept his gaze out on the ice, his eyes following Iwaizumi. “All I’m saying is, a certain _someone_ seems to have caught your attention. And I just think it's interesting because I’ve never seen you so… flustered.”

“Oikawa-”

“You’re like a rock, ‘Kaashi. I’ve never seen you emote before-”

“Please stop,”

Quiet snickers came from beside Akaashi, but he refrained from glaring at the boy next to him, instead keeping his eyes on the aforementioned _someone_. Bokuto glided across the ice with unmatched pride, every movement he made was sure and powerful. It was different than anything Akaashi had ever seen. He seemed to keep a good relationship with everyone on his team, even getting the silent Aone to murmur a small response to the captain, which in turn made him burst out into loud guffaws, giving the imposing hockey player a hard pat on the shoulder. It was hard to believe that this person- this loud, rowdy person, was the same one who quietly rewrapped Akaashi’s sprained wrist with the same gentleness of a mother.

He watched Bokuto shoot a puck through Asahi’s defense, the small blur of black jostling the netting as he turned and gave a deafening “ _hey hey hey!_ ”, high fiving Nishinoya behind him.

Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed. It was like flipping a switch. 

Iwaizumi was next in the drill, he rounded the distance between him and the net with a powerful burst of speed, guiding the puck with careful movements of his hockey stick.

Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi saw as Oikawa stood up, a smile plastered to his face as he cupped his hands around his mouth. “You’re doing _great_ , Iwa!”

Apparently, this wasn’t the first time Oikawa had done this and that alone didn’t shock Akaashi too much, because it seemed as though “Iwa” had been anticipating it.

“Ah shut up Shittykawa!”

The sound of hard plastic slamming against the puck was the only warning everyone had before it sped toward Asahi. The power put behind the shot was enough to stun everybody, however, it missed its target, somehow managing to catch air and ricocheting off of the pole of the net. 

It was like a scene out of a movie, where everything just so happened to go horribly wrong. As if in slow motion, Akaashi was forced to watch as the puck darted straight toward the unsuspecting hockey captain, landing a blow right on his nose. The entire rink held its breath as Bokuto stopped mid-sentence, blinking owlishly in response to the assault.

The puck bounced off the ice a few feet away, the small object coming to a stop as if completely innocent. 

“Ow. That... hurt?” Bokuto said, more of a question than anything as his free hand came up to cover his nose, curiosity etched on his face. “Good shot Iwaizumi!”

Akaashi sat on the edge of the bench, tense as horror settled into his system. He wasn’t acting affected at all! The captain barely even flinched upon impact, but if Akaashi was in his position he surely would’ve been knocked to the ground. The rink was silent, save for Kuroo’s laughter and Daichi’s hesitant “ _Are you okay_?”.

“Oh yeah I’m totally fine!” Bokuto replied, removing his hand with a grin that was completely _red_.

“ _Bokuto_!”

Akaashi didn’t realize it was _him_ who yelled the hockey captain’s name until he looked up at the horrified figure skater. From there, he was subjected to the full view of a bloodied Bokuto, the bright red gushed from his nose, and stained the pure white of his jersey. In front of him, he absentmindedly held up the hand that had previously covered his face.

Confusion marred Bokuto’s features until he looked down at his open palm, which held a small pool of blood that was currently growing. “ _Oh_.”

“Goddamn it, not again!” the coach grumbled, digging through his bag. “Bokuto! Get off the ice.”

_Again? Again!?_

Akaashi stood up without thinking, disbelief taking its toll on his face as he watched Bokuto shuffle off with wide eyes because G _od help him if he got blood on Suga’s ice_. “I should… go make sure he’s okay.”

He ignored the muffled chuckle that came from behind him as he stalked off.

“Okay everyone, let’s get back to it!” Daichi’s voice filled the spacious area, clapping his hands and urging his teammates back into the rhythm they had previously taken on.

The cool of the metal railing skimmed under Akaashi’s fingers as he closed the gap between the coach and him. Would Bokuto be okay? Recalling the way the red had stained the lower half of his face, quickly making its way past his open grin in thin rivulets to gather at his chin- it made him feel queasy. Akaashi had never been one for the sight of blood, but the combination of both _Bokuto_ and blood caused something to lurch in his stomach. 

From this distance Akaashi swore he could smell the iron in the air as Bokuto’s broad back came into view. He couldn’t see the hockey player’s face from there, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. The coach looked like he was fighting the urge to go for another cigarette break as he rifled through the small first aid kit that lay open on his knee. 

A sigh broke free from the coach when he found what he had been looking for: gauze. He looked up at his player through narrowed, assessing eyes as he handed the item over to Bokuto. “It doesn’t look broken. Do you feel alright?”

“Oh yeah I’m great,” came the captain’s response, sounding comically nasally. If Akaashi were in his shoes, that surely would’ve been peppered with sarcasm, but of course, Bokuto was nothing but sincere. It made something in his chest tighten.

“Okay then…” the coach sat back, his eyes flickering behind the injured player to notice Akaashi. “Well go clean yourself up, and if it doesn’t stop after a few minutes come talk to me. You know the drill.”

Words were caught on Akaashi’s tongue as he opened his mouth, what was he about to do? What should he do-

“Hey Picasso,” a voice came from beside Akaashi, behind the railing.

Kuroo stood leaning against the metal, his gaze fixed on Akaashi as he tapped the end of a hockey stick against the ice. Akaashi paused, _Picasso_?- was he talking to him?

“Agaashi!” Bokuto had just noticed the figure skater standing a little ways behind him.

Putting aside the delighted reception from the hockey captain, Akaashi shot Kuroo a confused look that was carefully laced with subtle irritation. It was something that he had perfected over time, with Oikawa being the main recipient. He couldn’t help but be on edge around Kuroo, he reminded Akaashi of the brunette figure skater, who was now shouting obnoxious praise to Iwaizumi across the rink, coming up with a new nickname each time.

There was something off-putting about Kuroo, Akaashi decided, his eyes narrowed on the smirk that the bedhead often wore. “Did you need something?”

Quiet satisfaction pulled further at the corners of Kuroo’s mouth. “Yes, actually.” He gestured to Bokuto with a lazy flick of his hand. “Can you help Bo take care of that?”

“Oh, he doesn’t need to do that!” Bokuto intercepted the carefully constructed looks Kuroo and Akaashi were exchanging, with an unexplainable red blooming on his cheeks that looked right at home next to the smeared blood. “Akaashi you don’t need to do that.” 

Akaashi didn’t miss the pointed glare Bokuto shot at his friend, an interesting mix of betrayal and agitation. He seemed to be more panicked now than when a rouge hockey puck decided to make his face a target.

“Well you see, normally it's Asahi that takes care of this stuff, but he’s a bit busy right now and I’d hate to interrupt him,” Kuroo explained further, jabbing a thumb behind him to call attention to the anxious goalkeep as he held back a fuming Iwaizumi from confronting Oikawa in the sidelines.

Bokuto whined, bringing the gauze up to clean what unpleasantries were currently coming out of his nose. “Kuroo, I can take care of this myself.”

Something pushed against Akaashi’s temples, his headache was returning with a vengeance and he didn’t have the patience to listen to this. “Okay fine, let’s go.” 

“What-?” Bokuto let out a yelp as Akaashi’s hand wrapped itself around his forearm, tugging him toward the locker room. “Wait Akaashi it’s fine I don’t-”

Akaashi glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking with the bright yellow of Bokuto’s.

Perhaps he looked more irritated than he felt because a single look caused the hockey captain to close his mouth shut with an audible snap. “-Okay.”

Kuroo’s laughter followed the two as the door slammed shut behind them, the sound of it vibrating off the walls. 

Silence was quick to take over the space afterward, the only sounds being the persistent buzz of the light and soft breaths Bokuto was forced to take through his mouth. This wasn’t the first time Akaashi had to drag someone there to take care of a minor injury, as Hinata was unfortunately prone to falling on his face when his footwork was lacking during his programs. So his body was in autopilot at that point, leading Bokuto to make himself comfortable on one of the benches while he snatched a handful of dampened paper towels from the conjoined bathroom.

“I’m sorry Kuroo pushed you to do this,” Bokuto said, adjusting the gauze he had unceremoniously shoved up his nose so as to stop any immediate bleeding. “I’m sure you didn’t want to.”

Akaashi sighed, adjusting his glasses before peering down at the mess of red, with paper towels at the ready. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

“Kuroo pushing you to do things?”

“No, this. Hinata’s more clumsy than he looks.”

Akaashi made quick work of the dried blood that had been smeared on Bokuto’s cheeks when he covered his nose earlier. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as some of the red stayed there. He swiped the pad of his thumb over his cheek, was he rubbing the skin raw? He looked up at the eyes of his “patient” to look for any discomfort or pain, only to have his lungs leap up into his throat.

Bokuto’s eyes were blown wide, directed right at Akaashi as his focus decidedly settled on the dull blue they had caught. Akaashi had never actually been able to see up close the eyes of the stranger that had made him slip on the ice all those weeks ago, and a distant voice in his head berated him for it. From this close, they appeared gold. The light overhead caught on the very edges of his iris, sending the colors alight with a mix of yellows and browns that shined against the expanding black of his pupil. Akaashi could very clearly see his reflection in them. 

A burning horror pierced Akaashi’s gut like a heated knife. Effectively cauterizing the metaphorical wound because _of course, any self-respecting deity wouldn’t let me just die from this, no!- they want to see me suffer! They want to see me writhe in agony!_

Because it was then that Akaashi had realized his exact position.

He was currently leaning over the hockey captain, the wet paper towel forgotten in his hand as the one that was cupping his cheek started to heat up from the sudden consciousness. His thumb sat stark against the red of Bokuto’s face, he had never seen the silver-haired boy blush so hard. But Akaashi couldn’t blame him, he would’ve had a similar response if someone had moved their face as close as he had to Bokuto. It wasn’t any wonder he could see his reflection too well in Bokuto’s eyes- only a few inches of space had separated them.

A shout of alarm was ripped from Akaashi’s throat as he tore himself far away from the hockey captain, the metal of the lockers digging into his back and keeping him from running any further. What was he just doing!? He didn’t realize he had moved in so close, he was only trying to clean off his face so when had he-? A hand slapped itself over his eyes, smudging the lenses of his glasses as he screwed his eyes shut. He must’ve made Bokuto _so_ uncomfortable, how else would he feel if someone just shoved their face in front of him like that!? Why couldn’t the ground just swallow him whole already!?

“Akaashi are you okay?” The hesitant worry in Bokuto’s voice made all of the muscles in Akaashi’s body simultaneously tense up.

“I’m fine,” he answered upon instinct when he was very much _not fine_. His lungs pushed against his ribcage like an over-inflated balloon, they threatened to pop at any given moment and his deafening, rapid-fire pulse pounded in his ears. “Sorry, I was just- I was trying to clean and-”

_Speak, dammit!_

“I’m gonna go,” Akaashi was finally able to push out a simple sentence, nearly heaving a sigh of relief as his mouth gained its functionality again. “But you should change because you have, uh-”

He breathlessly gestured on his own chest where the blood had stained Bokuto’s jersey. “Stuff… there.”

Bokuto still hadn’t said anything else, his eyes remained wide and trained on Akaashi while his mouth was held slightly agape. Akaashi wasn’t able to stand it anymore, the locker room suddenly felt as though it had shrunk, and the air was too thick to breathe.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Akaashi muttered as he scampered toward the exit, absentmindedly chucking the bloodied towels into the bin by the door.

The air of the rink was too cold and too thin, a strikingly hopeless contrast to that of the locker room, but it was a welcome difference due to the lack of a certain hockey captain. Akaashi raked a hand through his hair, coming to rest at the crown of his head, only to tug on the dark strands in his frustration. 

_What is wrong with me!?_

He should’ve listened to himself, Akaashi realized, back when he promised to stay away from Bokuto- so why didn’t he?

_Because Bokuto wouldn’t let me._

_That’s not a good enough excuse._ He ignored Oikawa’s sing-song greeting, having not even noticed he was back in his original seat, he felt like he was a million miles away, or at least somewhere else, distantly watching himself from a third person’s perspective. Akaashi fisted the dark fabric of his shirt and went back to staring at the wonderful nothingness by his shoe. 

It had only occurred in what felt like a couple of seconds, and yet Akaashi didn’t have the time to completely unpack what had just happened. The word “ _why”_ burned the back of his throat, threatening to rise up and out of his mouth. Why had he done that? Akaashi shifted back in his seat, bringing an index finger to curl over his mouth as his eyebrows furrowed. It started with Akaashi trying to clean off the mess that Bokuto made- simple as that. And it should’ve ended with that too, so why didn’t it?

Akaashi scowled the “ _why_ ” word, again.

He liked consistency, he liked predictability, what he _didn’t_ like was not knowing the cause for his actions. It was the equivalent of knocking something over and expecting it to fall, but instead watching in terror as the object started to float to the ceiling. He hated not knowing, especially if it involved himself. Akaashi was a mess -internally at least- so the least he could do is understand himself if he couldn't even do that much… Akaashi’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

What bothered him the most was how it only really seemed to mess with Akaashi. Had he been overreacting?

_Probably._

Thinking back to it, Bokuto looked shocked, yes, but no more so than Akaashi. So what did that mean- was he still registering it at the time? However, he was aware enough to ask Akaashi if he was okay. He sighed, his back still felt the hard notches of the metal lockers that dug into his spine, surely it would bruise. Why was it that whenever he was around the hockey captain, Akaashi couldn’t think- when thinking was all that he could do. 

“‘Kaashi if you get any redder, I’m going to get concerned.”

“I’m fine.” He had to forcibly pull the words from his mouth.

Oikawa hummed beside him. He seemed to be enjoying the situation all too much, and it made the corner of Akaashi’s eye twitch. 

“Did you have fun playing nurse?”

Akaashi’s head snapped up to see Kuroo, and in a perfectly acceptable response, his heart dropped. Kuroo was Bokuto’s best friend, there was no doubt about it, so it was obvious that he already knew what had just happened. It looked as though practice had ended during Akaashi’s silent breakdown of, uhm, _previous events_ , as Kuroo was back to wearing his casual clothes, and the ice was now empty. 

Oh god. Was Bokuto still in the locker room with the rest of the team? Did he not want to see Akaashi? It's not as though he could blame him, Akaashi didn’t exactly want to be crushed by guilt at the sight of his face at the moment. 

“Looks like he short-circuited.” Oikawa swooped in to respond to Kuroo before Akaashi could even begin to process a response of his own.

But when a handful of words materialized on his tongue, Akaashi was more than willing to let them out. When one thinks a lot, they keep countless opinions to themselves, most likely for the sake of social interaction, but Akaashi was too far gone to care. 

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

There, he said it. His eyes narrowed in on a rogue few strands of black hair that stood more prominently than the rest. A small spark of satisfaction warmed his chest, he was already screwed, so what more could he do?

A sharp bark of laughter jolted Akaashi from his sulking, and an incredulous expression clawed its way onto his face. Kuroo was doubled over, _laughing_. Akaashi bit harder into his bottom lip, why was he laughing, he meant every word of it, after all, he was more than happy to blame this entire thing on him. Kuroo was the one who pushed Akaashi to “play nurse” as he called it, despite the fact that Bokuto probably could’ve taken care of himself. Looking back on the series of events, he probably should’ve.

“Don’t worry about it,” Oikawa’s smooth voice rang out, taking on an amused tone. “If he actually tells you what he thinks that just means he likes you.”

Akaashi had to physically restrain his mouth from lifting into a sneer. Of course, Oikawa would say that he’d have the most experience of Akaashi cursing him. He ignored the arm thrown over his shoulder, casting his eyes to the side in a desperate attempt to escape the situation. 

He watched as Daichi and Suga talked over the counter, leaning in close as if it were conspiratory. Something ticked in his brain, _they were awfully close_. He wasn’t able to think much of it, though, because the locker room door opened right next to them, and out walked the one person that made Akaashi want to bury himself alive.

Oikawa and Kuroo continued their conversation beside him, but Akaashi’s attention was elsewhere, directed at the hockey captain who happened to look up at him. And maybe it was the glare of the lights or the smudge on his glasses, but a smile flashed on Bokuto’s face, accompanied by a warm blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi doesn't get paid enough to deal with this, honestly.


	12. Crocus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga knows... something,  
> Akaashi is unaware,  
> Bokuto says hi.
> 
> Crocus: Cheerfulness  
> Wow a Song: Seventeen -Summer Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing the next chapter: ugh i want to write more Fluff but its turned into a slow burn and theres not really place for it yet :(  
> Hurt/Comfort: allow me to introduce myself ;)

_Well as it seems I was seventeen_   
_When I first let out on a bike ride_   
_Hit the brakes, now I'm wide awake_   
_Was it just a matter of time_

_______________

The air conditioning hummed in his ears, pushing itself in cold waves up Akaashi’s bare arms and insistently brushing any stray hairs against his forehead. He watched as the goosebumps rose across his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt. The low murmur of the radio filled the car, the starting rhythm of a guitar accompanied by a set of drums fought for his attention. It was a moderately quiet song, one that belonged in the opening of a cheesy indie flick or perhaps the coffee shop down the road, and Akaashi found that it was something Suga liked to drive to. He didn’t mind it, though, the soft voice of the vocalist soothed his pounding headache and urged him to close his eyes behind the smudged lenses of his glasses. 

“ **I’ve been away so long,** ”

Akaashi’s thumb tapped against the side of his phone. It was sitting tightly clutched in his lap and he hadn’t put it away since earlier, something inside of him refused to. His fingers still burned with something of a phantom warmth, and he cracked his eyes open just enough to stare down at the darkened screen.

“ **It’s been nice getting to know you** ,”

A few hard strums of a guitar drifted from out of the speaker as Akaashi’s attention slid to the window. It was getting dark out, he hadn’t realized how long he had been at the rink- the sky was a messy spattering of pinks and golds, only highlighted by the droves of clouds that hung like a curtain against the vibrant backdrop. More lyrics poured from the radio, mixing into a nonsensical slush against the instruments that dulled his senses. A mountain of homework and lab reports awaited him at home, but Akaashi could spend these next few minutes taking the time to breathe.

“ **Well as it seems I was seventeen,** ”

The yellowed glare of passing streetlights dashed across the small space of Akaashi’s phone screen. It prompted him to unlock it, his eyes adjusting to the light before settling on the exact same window it had been opened to nearly five minutes ago.

_“Hey Akaashi!” It was Suga that had waved him over, saving him from any more conversation between Oikawa and Kuroo. As it turned out, having both boys in the same room and interacting together was easily the most mentally draining thing Akaashi had ever put himself through._

_The two were more alike than Akaashi would ever care to admit, both sporting scheming expressions that made him more aware of his actions than usual. They were both obnoxiously sure of themselves and harbored a surprising amount of intelligence that only warranted concern. Akaashi could only pray that their friendship didn’t exceed the walls of the ice rink._

_He was quick to make his way over to the counter where Suga was. He passed Daichi, exchanging polite smiles with the vice-captain before reaching his destination. If Akaashi were to be honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how to feel about Daichi. From what he’s seen, Daichi was the most normal player on the hockey team, and all it did was make Akaashi a bit suspicious. He didn't want to be judgemental, but it just seemed too good to be true at times._

_“Did you need something?” Akaashi asked when Suga’s head finally popped up from behind the counter._

_“Ah! Yes,” he replied, almost sounding surprised. “Sorry to bother you, but do you think you could help me move some stuff in the back room? I’ll drive you home.” He said the last part as if it were an incentive, and perhaps it was, walking back in the dark wasn’t high on his list of fun things to do._

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Oh yeah, I have a stop to make in that area anyway.”_

_Suga took his question as a “yes” and motioned him behind the counter, calling his attention to a sizable stack of boxes that were tucked against the wall behind a shelf full of skates. Akaashi followed Suga, taking an armful of boxes and trailing behind the dove haired boy as they walked to the storage room._

_“Nice muscles ‘Kaashi!”_

_Eyes narrowed on the brunette, ignoring Kuroo’s smirk beside him. “Go home.”_

_He waited for Suga to open the storage room door, shifting his hold on the boxes where their corners prodded at his chest. A distant curiosity budded in his head, wondering what was in them, as they certainly weren’t light._

_“Thanks a bunch, Akaashi,” Suga said as they pushed the boxes to the back of a table._

_Akaashi merely hummed a response. The room was dark, the only light coming from the entryway that let in a fat, strictly door-shaped imprint of light on the floor. But it was more than enough for Akaashi to see the shadowy outlines of shelves that lined the walls. The nozzle of a spray bottle left an odd silhouette against the outcropping of clean towels._

_It grew quiet in the small room._

_“So um,”_

_He looked over his shoulder to see Suga staring back at him, his soft eyes were shadowed in the darkened space._

_“Did something happen earlier?”_

_Akaashi froze. Did he see him walk out of the locker room? Something burned unpleasantly in his gut- of course, he did. “N-no.”_

_He cursed himself for stuttering._

_“Oh?” Suga raised an eyebrow. Dammit. He was extremely perceptive of these things, there was nothing Akaashi could hide from him. It was like being interrogated by a parent._

_He made sure to collect himself with a steadying breath, really, Akaashi didn’t have a clue as to what was wrong with him as of late, he was usually much more composed. Ever since Bokuto popped into his life, he had been having these random moments of chest pain and- was Akaashi getting sick? Whatever it was it sure was taking its sweet time, perhaps he should visit a clinic just to be safe, he couldn’t have anything like this happening with competition season right around the corner. He absentmindedly pulled at his ring finger, this was all so troublesome._

_“Really, nothing happened,” Akaashi reassured him, raising an innocent hand so as to emphasize the alleged nothingness. The expectant look Suga wore urged him to continue, despite the fact that he didn’t know where he was going with this. “I’m probably just overthinking things again.”_

_“Okay…” Suga dragged out the word, turning his attention back to rearranging a small bundle of supplies on a shelf that was too high up for him. “I was just sort of worried, I saw you coming out of the locker room earlier and you looked- well you looked like you were about to have a panic attack, Akaashi.”_

_A small “oh” stumbled out of his mouth. No wonder Suga brought it up, he had witnessed Akaashi falling to his lowest point too many times to count, so by now, it was second nature for him to be aware of the small details of the figure skater’s actions. He almost felt guilty, he caused Suga to worry._

_“Plus I thought Bokuto might’ve weirded you out back there, so I was gonna get Ukai to beat his ass, you know?” A smirk highlighted Suga’s features even in the darkened room. There was too much to unpack there, what would Bokuto do to weird him out?_

_Guilt settled heavily in his stomach. No, Bokuto didn’t do anything to weird him out, but, Akaashi on the other hand? His lungs seemed to have shriveled up, the scene in the locker room playing all too clearly in his head. Should he apologize to Bokuto for that? A resounding yes reverberated against his skull like the striking of a gong, any decent human being would apologize!- but the thought of bringing it back up to the hockey captain made Akaashi break out into a nervous sweat. There was no way he could do that._

_Akaashi sighed, he shouldn’t bring up what happened to Suga, no matter how much he felt that he needed his advice. Instead, he focused on something else._

_“Ukai?”_

_“Their coach,” Suga answered. “Apparently, he went to high school with my dad, can you believe it?” He tutted, stretching up even further to reach for something else. “Sometimes this town feels too small.”_

_Just the mere mention of Sugawara Senior left Akaashi’s mind wandering off. It had been a while since he came around to the rink, which under normal circumstances would’ve been odd, considering he was the owner. More often than not Suga was the one left in charge. He had to give the younger Sugawara some credit, he did a good job with it, considering he was still finishing up high school, but it seemed to take up too much of his free time. It was something Akaashi thought about occasionally, would he eventually take over the rink’s ownership?_

_“So what’s going on with you and Bokuto?”_

_Akaashi nearly jumped out of his skin. Where in the world did that come from!? There was no way Akaashi was that transparent! “I- what?”_

_“Hm?” Suga had the nerve to look sweetly confused, leaning back into the shelf with crossed arms and a tilted head._

_“I don’t- what do you mean?”_

_He surveyed Akaashi’s flustered state, a hint of a smile graced his features as though he had found what he was looking for, but decided to entertain the figure skater a bit more. “Well I mean like, are you guys friends or…?”_

_Akaashi visibly relaxed, slightly bracing himself against the flat of the table behind him. That he could answer... maybe. “I think so? Why do you ask?”_

_“No reason. You two seem to have gotten close, that’s all.” Suga’s voice remained light and airy. “It normally takes you a while to warm up to people.”_

_That much was true under normal circumstances, but if there was anything Akaashi had learned over the past few weeks, it was that Bokuto liked to break any semblance of normality in his life. As much as he liked consistency, Akaashi was often left grasping at straws whenever he interacted with the hockey captain. He was loud and sporadic and -Akaashi had thought through this so many times the adjectives came as a second nature by now- Bokuto was the picturesque image of the type of person he took care to avoid. And yet, Akaashi found himself leaning toward it by now, perhaps all that time of constant conversation had him going soft? Either way, Akaashi was growing used to the overwhelming presence of the hockey captain, whether he liked it or not._

_Akaashi brought a hand to card through his hair, fingers catching on tangles. “I guess I’m just used to him?”_

_A quiet chuckle caught his attention from an annoyingly persistent knot near the back of his head. Suga had apparently finished his impromptu organizing session and looked ready to face the blinding lights of the rest of the rink. And maybe it was because the dark of the storage room felt nice with his headache, or that time alone with Suga came few and far between, but a surge of curiosity spilled past his mouth before Akaashi had the time to filter through it._

_“What’s with you and Daichi?”_

_Akaashi had to physically fight the urge to slap a hand over his mouth when Suga stopped mid-step. What was wrong with him? Did he not have a conscience to speak of? Something about the way Suga peered at him through the darkness of the storage room, how his eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit, and the ghost of a smile that brought attention to the mark on his cheek. He seemed to be thinking, as if he long ago knew the answer in anticipation of the question but still had to take the time to build the right response just for Akaashi._

_“I like him,”_

_“Well, I figured that much.”_

_Suga blinked, the composed calm of his expression had changed to one of minute surprise. “You knew?”_

_Confusion bubbled inside Akaashi’s brain, he couldn't understand why Suga was reacting like that. “Yeah. You guys are friends, right? Of course, you’d like him-”_

_“No Akaashi,” laughter interrupted the figure skater. “What I mean is,” Suga gave a little sigh, and for a moment Akaashi felt no different than the kids he taught. “I_ like _like him.”_

_Akaashi had never felt so stupid in all his life._

_“Oh,”_

_“Yeah.”_

_It wasn’t often that this happened for Suga. In all the years he had known him, the grey-haired boy had only dated once, and it had hardly lasted. Suga considered himself just too busy to mess around with a relationship. Akaashi wasn’t sure how this thing with Daichi had managed to slip past him._

_He studied the boy in front of him. Suga had always carried an inexplicable air of calmness with him. His words contained a quiet sureness in them that worked to comfort Akaashi, even when all he could think about was the negative. Even now, upon confessing, Suga kept a steady tone of voice. It was something Akaashi would never understand._

_He leveled himself with the darkened brown of Suga’s eyes. “Does he feel the same way?”_

_A small huff, a hint of a laugh. “Probably.” Suga flicked away the stray hairs that fell into his face. “But I’m just surprised you’re the one to come to me instead of Oikawa. You’re really smart, but you’ve never been too good at figuring these things out.”_

_A frown weighed down on Akaashi’s face. “What makes you so sure of that?”_

_“I just am,” Suga hummed, returning his gaze with something unspoken, something Akaashi didn’t understand._

_Well, what the hell was that supposed to mean? Akaashi really didn’t like not knowing, and it seemed to be happening more and more._

_Begrudgingly, he followed Suga out of the safety of the storage room and back into the full exposure of the main space of the rink. He gave Oikawa a small wave goodbye as the brunette left, shouting to Akaashi something about proper sleep. It was all for naught, seeing as though it was something he hadn’t gotten since he was twelve._

_“Wait here,” Suga said, walking past him with a hand slipping off of the figure skater’s shoulder. “I have to go get my stuff before we leave.”_

_Akaashi nodded, his shoulders already tiring at the prospect of picking up the bookbag he left slumped by his seat. When he rounded the corner, he wasn’t met with an empty bench, no, because that would make things too easy for him, instead, Akaashi found yellow. Or more precisely, yellow eyes that held a particular liveliness that Akaashi had been trying his hardest to avoid for the rest of the day._

_“Hey!” Bokuto’s hair seemed to straighten up by itself when he saw the other boy approaching. Leaning against his leg was the dark red of Akaashi’s bookbag, the corners of the binders shoved in there pulled the fabric taut._

_Akaashi stopped, and coincidentally, so did his heart. Was Bokuto here to confront him for what happened earlier? Oh god, what could he even say? Would sorry be enough?_

_“Hello,” the word was forced and sounded as such._

_“I just wanted to say thanks for coming! It means a lot to me, even though it probably wasn’t as interesting to you as your own practice.” Did Bokuto look nervous? The captain soothed a stray silver hair back into its respective spike. “And um, thanks for earlier too.”_

_Red immediately took its place on Akaashi’s cheeks, mirroring Bokuto’s own, why wasn’t he angry? He was sure he had definitely crossed a line back there, so the fact that the other boy still bothered to talk to him made his head spin. “Uh, it was no problem.” That was a lie. Call him crazy but he was positive a problem had occurred today. “Thank you for inviting me.”_

_“Anytime! If you want, you could come to our game. I’m pretty sure Oikawa was gonna go, so you wouldn’t be alone.”_

_Of course, Oikawa would go. He was sure Iwaizumi was oh-so-happy about that._

_Nonetheless, his curiosity burned. He couldn’t help but wonder what the hockey captain was like when he was serious. Imagining the way the yellow in his eyes shined with a focus intense enough to stop Akaashi in his tracks, how would that translate during a game?_

_“It sounds fun. I don’t see why not.” A smile involuntarily stretched across Akaashi’s face, but it was, by all means, no match for Bokuto’s. He was met with a full-fledged grin so wide that lifted the corners of his eyes. One would think that he just won the lottery._

_“Okay cool! And I’ll make sure to go to your competition!” Bokuto jumped up, taking a quick second to dig through the side pocket of his duffle bag. “I don’t really know the details for my game yet, so maybe I could text them to you?” He tentatively held up his phone._

_Text? He wanted to text him? Akaashi blinked, he wanted his_ number _. His chest tightened a fraction. He wanted Akaashi’s number, just like any friend would. But most importantly he wanted Akaashi’s number after what happened?_

_“O-okay,”_

_He was rewarded with an even bigger grin from the excited hockey captain. “Here, you can put your number in my phone, and I’ll put mine in yours!”_

_Without much more fanfare they exchanged phones, Akaashi stared down at the cracks that spiderwebbed across Bokuto’s screen as he tapped in the familiar string of numbers that were his own. Reaching out to pass it back to him, Bokuto’s fingers settled over his. Purely accidental, Akaashi knew this, so why they had started to burn from the contact was beyond him._

_“Thanks, Akaashi!”_

“ **Was it just a matter of time,** ”

Tucked away in the passenger’s seat of Suga’s car, Akaashi stared down at his newest contact. Bokuto had put his name in, he realized. The hockey captain’s name was displayed proudly, accompanied by a healthy dosage of emojis that included an ice skate and multiple birds. He seemed to have emptied out all that the aviary in Akaashi’s phone had to offer.

He could feel Suga’s attention on him as Akaashi’s smile threatened to spread even further. He couldn’t help it, Bokuto was unlike anyone he had ever met, he was just so odd.

  
“ **Can’t believe that I was spinning out of control,** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless suga for putting up with everything happening in his ice rink


	13. White Hyacinths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi gets overwhelmed,  
> Bokuto is there,  
> The author warned you about angst(?).
> 
> White Hyacinths: The Loveliness of Some  
> Wow a Song: Talk to Me -Cavetown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters have been getting longer and i,,,, am so tired.
> 
> also warning for a panic attack later in the chapter,, if that upsets you in any way

_You don't have to be a prodigy to be unique_  
_You don't have to know what to say or what to think_  
_You don't have to be anybody you can never be_  
_That's alright, let it out, talk to me_

_______________

The birds started singing at 5:54 in the morning.

He knew this for sure, because the high pitched twittering had pulled his attention away from the ceiling and instead at the all-too-bright clock display on his phone. His eyes stung, and the only alleviation he could offer was the harsh push of the heel of his palm against them. He wasn’t sure how long he had kept them open, or how long he had laid there with his gaze at the ceiling, but by now he could fully recreate the texture that hung above him. Every nook and cranny, every overlap of spakle, it stayed behind his eyelids in a perfect imprint, picturelike. 

He didn’t bother pushing himself up into a sitting position, despite the restlessness that sparked in his legs. A telltale weight pulled him further into the mattress, making the pillow just a bit too soft and the blankets a bit too warm- he must not have slept. It could be blamed purely on the way something cold had hooked its fingers under his ribcage, or the awful tingling that had remained in the tips of his fingers throughout the night. It was familiar and expected and no less horrible.

Akaashi Keiji was terrified.

Perhaps terrified wasn’t the right word to use. Definitively, it was correct, but to him, the word _terrified_ was just off the mark. Yes but no. To Akaashi, to be terrified was a response to something that happened suddenly. An unnamed something that called for a feeling of terror. But what Akaashi was feeling, it was something that had been there for a while. It had moved in long ago and by now they were neighbors familiar with each other. He might’ve even indulged in some impromptu afternoon tea with this feeling. It wasn’t something that took him by surprise, it was something he had known.

And perhaps he was wrong, but to him terrified and what he was feeling weren't the same. A situation of similar but different, maybe, but not identical.

A breath pushed itself from his lungs, the simple in and out of his breathing was something he had become painstakingly aware of all night. He found himself lost in the motions similar to the way he had become lost in his own thoughts. Akaashi was aware that he had pushed it far past the point of overthinking, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of tomorrow made that unnamed feeling spread through his legs, reaching the tips of his toes and pushing him to move. His room had begun to feel tight and restraining, the air heating itself into a hot, honey-like consistency. He had to move, he couldn’t stand it anymore, Akaashi had to get out of there. 

He hated days like those. 

They frustrated him beyond compare and made him feel so hopeless, so stupid.

Akaashi pushed past the front door, slinging his practice bag over his shoulder as he hopped down the front step. Things like this happened often, when the unnamed feeling began to show up Akaashi always felt like he couldn’t stay in one place. More often than not, that meant another early morning at the rink. The only difference was that this time he wouldn’t be alone.

And today he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

His phone buzzed from within the pocket of his hoodie. _Speak of the devil_ … Bokuto’s name popped up on Akaashi’s lock screen. He still wasn’t fully used to having the other boy as a contact, and not a day went by that he wasn’t assaulted by a barrage of emojis from the hockey captain. Bokuto messaged Akaashi whenever he felt like, and he wasn’t used to having a constant stream of texts waiting for him when he got around to checking his phone between classes. 

It was never the same thing waiting for Akaashi when he opened the texts from him. Sometimes it would be a picture of a fat bird Bokuto saw, a random fact that he just heard, an update on the antics of Oikawa and Iwaizumi, questions about figure skating, the list went on and on. The latest conversation between the two of them had been about Bokuto’s english essay. Last night somewhere along the way he ended up on call with Bokuto while the hockey captain rushed to finish his analysis on the morality of Hamlet. Akaashi wasn’t sure about how he affected Bokuto’s productivity that night, but he ended up turning it in a minute before the deadline. So all’s well that ends well, he supposed.

He shot Bokuto a quick text back, careful to avoid uneven cracks in the sidewalk that he was prone to tripping on. Bokuto was waiting for him by the main intersection; the one by the cafe. It was routine for the two of them to meet up on the mornings that Akaashi planned to go to the rink. To the point where he had to text Bokuto if he wasn’t able to make it. It had only happened once -he had to finish a project that night and wanted to reward himself by sleeping in- but the fact that he had to cancel on his early Saturday mornings with Bokuto still meant something, he figured.

Akaashi’s shoulders sagged. School had been horribly unapologetic in drowning him in tests and collaborative projects. And what wonderful timing, it was all before the first competition of the season. Just the mention of it left something rolling in his gut, a stark reminder that Akaashi had been in such a hurry to leave that he skipped over breakfast. The thought of skipping meals fueled his train of thought down a completely different track, did he forget to eat dinner last night too? He sighed, exhaustion weighing heavier after the revelation.

Lately, Akaashi had found himself hopelessly distracted. Whenever he wasn’t immediately preoccupied his mind started to wander and anxiety started to creep up like vines scaling the walls of a house. Kenma had caught him doing it one morning in class, and he ended up having to jab the other boy with his elbow, irritation laced in his voice because “ _you’re overthinking and doing nothing but making it worse_ ”. Kenma was the most blunt person he had ever met, and perhaps it only worked in his favor at the moment, because the blond didn’t even bother easing into the conversation with a simple “what’s wrong?”. He already knew what time of the year it was, and he already knew how Akaashi’s mind spiraled endlessly.

He just couldn’t help it. It was always the worst right before competition season when anticipation hung thick in the air. Hypotheticals and self-doubt swarmed his head, making it difficult to see past the persistent nervousness that clouded his mind.

“Hey hey hey, Agaashi!”

And suddenly he could see, if only a little.

He was seated outside a line of shops, making himself at home on the faded wood of a bench with his bag settled on his lap and his hands filled with a couple of cups of coffee. Akaashi recognized the logo of Yamaguchi’s cafe almost immediately. Not long ago, he took Bokuto there after practice. Did he memorize Akaashi’s order already? It was only one time.

A tired smile spread slowly across the figure skater’s face. “Good morning Bokuto.”

Bokuto held out a coffee. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“I didn’t keep you up too late last night, did I?”

Akaashi choked on the first sip of his drink. _He meant on the phone, idiot._ He cleared his throat, stalling just to the point where he could trust that his voice wouldn’t give out. “No, not at all.” He allowed himself to try drinking his coffee again, this time without it threatening to come up out of his nose. “Were you worried that you did?”

“I mean a little. I kept you up until like, _ten_.” Bokuto said, lifting himself from the bench and joining the other boy on the sidewalk.

“Ten’s not that late, don’t worry about it.” 

“What? What time do you go to bed?”

Akaashi shrugged. “One... maybe two?”

“‘ _Gaashi_!”

He didn’t even try to suppress chuckling at the way Bokuto’s hair seemingly stood up straighter on its own. “What?”

“You go to bed at two and then wake up at six to go skate, that’s-” Bokuto paused to count the hours on his free hand.

“Four hours, Bokuto-”

“Yeah four hours!”

Another mouthful of coffee and Akaashi was fighting back more laughter. He had to bite his tongue when he almost told him that he didn’t even sleep last night. But what was he trying to prove? Also, it was best to give Bokuto’s heart a break, as it looked like the extent of his disbelief was on the verge of sending him to the ER.

Bokuto’s arm found itself slung heavily around Akaashi’s shoulders. “How do you even function?”

“The truth is I don’t.”

Akaashi glanced at the hand that hung limp on his shoulder. This was new. Oddly enough, he found himself not minding, Bokuto truly was the exception, wasn’t he? He wondered if he knew that. Probably not.

The hockey captain groaned loudly. Maybe a little bit too loudly, as the small handful of people around them stared at the two teenagers for a moment before returning to their monotonous activities. 

“Just don’t overwork yourself, got it?”

“Got it.”

He had been told that more times than he could count, usually they came from Suga or Coach Takeda. And while they meant well, Akaashi couldn’t help himself. He always felt like he was trailing behind like he couldn’t rest because the moment he did, that’s when he would fall. The unnamed feeling pushed him into moving, into finishing school work well into the night and onto the ice early in the morning. It was what he would do until he felt like he had made a proper name for himself.

Akaashi had always felt that he was just okay. He was never extraordinarily good or bad at anything he had ever done. He never stood out, and perhaps that was fine, but he wanted to feel proud of something that he could do. He wanted to hone a skill until he could finally say that he was more than just okay. So while he tried not to overwork himself, deep down Akaashi he wouldn’t change anything until he felt that he could accept his skill set. 

“You’re spacing out a lot today, are you sure everything’s okay?”

Bokuto’s arm slipped off of Akaashi’s shoulders and they had slowed their pace considerably. He wasn’t sure why, though, the rink was less than a block away. Akaashi levelled his gaze with the hockey captain, attentive to the way the yellow in his eyes were tinged with worry. Was it that noticeable? He wanted to curl in on himself, he was making Bokuto worry, he shouldn’t be doing that.

“Yeah, I’m sorry everything’s fine I’m just,” Akaashi cast a wary glance at the entrance of the ice rink. “I’m just tired.”

Bokuto only hummed as they made their way toward the back of the building. “How do you feel about tomorrow?”

_Tomorrow_. 

It would be the start of the season. Tomorrow Akaashi would be at the rink in the next town over, standing on the ice under lights that were too bright and eyes that were too many. The thought of all that attention, of all the prying eyes in the audience, picking him apart and putting him up for examination. A tremor wracked its way through his hands, making him drop the spare key he had been previously holding. It was what had kept him up all night. He stayed staring at his ceiling, his mind running too fast for him to catch up as it ran through the what-ifs. But it was something completely different for Bokuto to acknowledge it. It made it all feel too real. 

How did he feel about it? 

“Bad.” It was all Akaashi could bring himself to say before he stooped down to pick up the key and unlocked the door, but not before missing the keyhole a grand total of three times.

Bokuto didn’t say anything else. And Akaashi was grateful.

The lights of the staff room flickered to life with a quietly annoyed buzz. He made quick work of crossing the room, purposely avoiding the calendar that hung on the wall, and the angry red that circled the upcoming date. The back door closed with a high pitched groan and a thud. Bokuto watched through the window of the room as Akaashi turned the overhead lights on, his attention caught on the rink as it was revealed one flick of a light switch at a time. He purposely left the sidelines off, opting to leave anything that wasn’t on the ice drenched in a stilled darkness. When Akaashi’s mind was cluttered and rampant, he found it was better to not be able to see where an audience would gather. Bokuto didn’t point out the obvious change in lighting.

“It's so weird to see this place empty,” he said instead, checking his hair in the reflection of the window to make sure the silver spikes had stayed in place. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“For me it's even weirder when people are here.”

The ice seemed colder than usual that morning, and made Akaashi hesitate to peel off his hoodie. He knew he would soon warm himself up and he didn’t want to sweat in it, but as he pulled the fabric over his head, he felt exposed. A shiver worked its way down his spine and the only things that pushed him to continue at that point was the restless feeling in his legs and the sharp look Bokuto had been giving him.

He cocked his head as Bokuto continued his staring. Did he have something on his face? 

“What?”

Bouto blinked, yellow refocusing as a questionable pink warmed his face. “Nothing! Nothing, let’s just get started!” He turned abruptly on his heel and let out a nervous laugh.

Akaashi didn’t quite understand why Bokuto liked to accompany him during the mornings. He was sure he had better things to do on a Saturday morning, something more worthwhile than watching a mediocre figure skater flail about. But strangely enough that didn’t stop him from coming nor did Akaashi stop letting him. 

Bokuto was quick to pick up on Akaashi’s mounting stress, it seemed, and he was treating the figure skater to an extra helping of praise that morning. It would be something small, like when he did his step sequences correctly, or when he landed a jump, anything, really, and Akaashi would be subjected to the hockey captain’s ringing compliments. He stood near the railing, shifting on the blades of his skates as he helped Akaashi with the radio they had pulled from the staff room. 

Maybe he was just tired, or maybe he was just eager for reassurance, but whatever Bokuto ended up shouting to him- those words went straight to Akaashi’s head. He was able to focus the restless feeling he had been dealing with all morning into his movements. His footwork so far had been sharp and his combinations had been on the mark, could he skate like this tomorrow? Last year had been one of the best for Akaashi, he had been able to last up until the national junior championships. It had been him and Oikawa that were going, but in the end Akaashi hadn’t been able to withstand it. 

He vividly remembered the hollow sound of steel against ice as he was called forward to perform his short program. His hands held a small tremor to them, and his lungs felt too light. The breath he took as his music started was anything but refreshing, the air was too thin to take in, and his chest burned. He recalled the way his legs nearly gave out when he pushed off of the ice to start and-

Akaashi came down hard and unsteady from a toe loop, gritting his teeth despite Bokuto’s reassurance.

-the rest was history. It was history that made resentment settle heavily somewhere in his gut. Oikawa had just barely missed the margin for international qualification, while Akaashi ended up near the bottom of the scoreboard. It was something he wanted to forget. Coach Takeda had been so sure of him that season, and Akaashi had done nothing but waste his time. He had created a program just for Akaashi, only for the figure skater to completely botch it during nationals. 

He was starting to flounder, he realized this when he didn’t get enough speed before his combination, and was forced to sloppily push himself through the series of jumps without gaining much air. His entire program was off, he knew this but that didn’t stop his mind from further spiraling. He found he could no longer focus.

_Oikawa_. Oikawa had deserved to go to the international competition, Akaashi didn’t even hold a candle to him. He was on a completely different level and Akaashi wanted to be better than him? Failure left a sour taste in his mouth. As he pushed past the mistakes in his program his legs grew heavy, and his lungs burned. He was going to mess up again this year, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Akaashi had been living in a bubble during the past month, and it was all thanks to Bokuto. As much as he hated to admit it, everything the hockey player had said to him, all the baseless praise and wonder at what Akaashi could do, it made him feel like he was actually able to push himself to the international championships. 

But the truth was, Akaashi was just a dime-a-dozen figure skater. It made no difference what anyone said.

It shouldn’t have come as such an earth-shattering revelation, but it did. 

The sweet melody of a violin cut short just as Akaashi came to a stop. His chest was heaving, had he always been this out of breath? The air suddenly felt too thin and unfulfilling, and the warmth that had built behind his eyes had become overwhelmingly hot. He couldn’t do this.

“Akaashi that was so good!”

_No. No it wasn’t. It’ll never be._ He wasn’t sure if he could do another year of this anxiety and failure, another year of letting down the people who stood behind him. Standing in the middle of the rink in deafening silence, Akaashi felt all too exposed. The perspiration that had settled on his bare arms sunk into his skin, it was as if the cold of the rink was splitting him open with the sharp end of a pick, all under the clinical brightness of the overhead lights. It was all too much- the space was too big and too overwhelming he couldn’t-

_plip!_

Oh, he didn’t realize just how blurry his vision had gotten. The undisturbed tears that swam in his eyes started to dislocate his contacts, but he couldn’t be bothered. He furiously wiped at the bottom of his eyes, determined to catch the tears before they fell because maybe if he did that Bokuto wouldn’t notice-

“Akaashi!”

_Dammit_.

He shouldn’t be doing this, no, not in front of him! His throat burned with the cool air of the rink, and his heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear- he felt useless. Akaashi was distantly able to make out the sound of wheezing, but where was it coming from?

Warmth steadied itself on Akaashi’s forearms, and unless his already questionable ability to see had betrayed him once more, Bokuto was holding on to him. 

“Akaashi what’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?”

He felt like he was underwater, struggling to breathe without drowning. And it was all for nothing. Bokuto shot off questions in a rapid-fire pace, growing increasingly worried, and it caused guilt to eat away at Akaashi. He shouldn’t be doing this in front of him, or in front of _anyone_ really.

Akaashi struggled to open his mouth, but when he did his words sounded too watery, it didn’t sound like himself and he hated it. “I _can’t_.”

_What’s wrong? Everything, Bokuto I can’t do this! I’m going to mess up in front of everyone tomorrow- in front of Coach Takeda and Suga and Oikawa and- and_ you _! I know I’m overthinking and making everything worse but I can’t help it! So much can and will go wrong and there’s nothing I can do! I don’t know what to do or how to go about it and I’m not ready to fail!_

It felt so much worse when Bokuto forced him to think about it, to acknowledge just what had kept him up all night.

“You need to breathe, I think you’re having a panic attack,” Bokuto said, his grip on Akaashi’s forearms had tightened the slightest bit. “Can you try to copy me?”

As much as he hated it, it wasn’t Akaashi’s first time in this situation, and he sincerely doubted it would be his last. He knew Bokuto was only trying to help, but the moment the hockey captain started the breathing exercise Akaashi had been taught in elementary school, he had to hold a hand up to him. He didn’t need his help, he could get through this on his own just like he always had. He despised that this happened in front of Bokuto, and that he felt like he had to help him. Self hatred replaced the jumbled mess of frantic thoughts that had previously occupied his head, this wasn’t how Bokuto should spend his Saturday mornings. 

“What can I do?” he asked, yellow boring into the top of Akaashi’s head as the figure skater pointedly kept his gaze down.

It took a minute for Akaashi to find his voice again, but when he did it sounded scratchy. He shifted his weight on his other foot with a pang of irritation. His legs almost gave out. “Just stay there,” He screwed his eyes shut as he was forced to lean further against Bokuto. “Please.”

Akaashi was tired, both mentally and physically. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could remain standing, every second he stayed there with his head against Bokuto’s shoulder and his hands clasped tightly on his arms, he felt all his willpower leave his body. All he wanted was to lay down, preferably in fetal position in the comfortable solitary confinement of his room. But no, he was here, alone in the middle of the rink with Bokuto as the hockey captain slowly shifted his position to place an awkward hand on his back, like that of an uncomfortable relative.

Of course he was making Bokuto uncomfortable, he definitely didn’t want to get roped up in this, but Akaashi didn’t give him much of a choice. 

He pulled himself away from the other boy, but kept a steady hold on his forearm out of fear of making an even bigger fool of himself by falling. “I'm sorry, that was pathetic. I didn’t mean to do that.” Akaashi found that he couldn’t look Bokuto in the eyes. “Really I uh- I’m sorry for bothering you like this.”

“Akaashi,”

He was going to say more, really, he was, but the unusual softness in Bokuto’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Akaashi finally felt compelled to look up at him, and he ended up biting his tongue. From this close, their height gap was accentuated, and he had to actually look _up_ at the warm yellow that had been caught on him. A sad smile pushed at the corners of Bokuto’s eyes, and in a cruel twist of irony Akaashi could barely make out his reflection in them. He was just a darkened smudge reflected in the brilliant yellow, and distantly, he wondered how much of a wreck he looked like at the moment. He was sure whatever semblance he had of looking like a stable person had been utterly shattered that morning.

“Akaashi you’re not a bother.” The hockey captain brought a hand up to wipe a stray tear away with his thumb. Akaashi hadn’t even realized it had fallen, oh how terribly cliche. Bokuto’s thumb left a burning heat on Akaashi’s cheeks. It took him a moment to realize that he didn’t move his hand, and his blush only deepened, but why- “In fact I’m happy I was here. I wouldn’t want you going through that alone.”

“Speak for yourself.” Akaashi summoned a dry chuckle in hopes of watering down the tension that had materialized out of thin air. He _really_ needed to lay down. “It’s embarrassing when it happens in front of other people.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but, did this happen because of tomorrow?”

A slight metallic taste invaded Akaashi’s mouth when he bit into his cheek. He shouldn't have been surprised, it was fairly obvious that it was about the competition, but still the fact that he knew nonetheless made Akaashi’s chest feel warm. “Yes.” 

A quick glance back up to Bokuto’s face, and suddenly he found himself spilling his guts to the hockey captain. It was all so odd, he had hardly known this person a month, so why did he feel so compelled to tell him things that took years of opening up to Suga? There was something unexplainable about it. It was in the warmth of Bokuto’s hand on his cheek, and the sincerity in his smile, and maybe even in the intensity of the yellow eyes that started the whole thing in the first place. The very same gaze that he initially hated, but now fought for. 

It was all so, so entirely odd. And it was only punctuated by the persistent tightening in his chest. Would it ever go away?

The rink felt too quiet as Akaashi finished talking, and regret started to burn in his mouth. Why did he feel like he had to share all of that with him? Surely Bokuto wouldn’t care, he had no reason to, and Akaashi couldn’t fault him for that.

“Sorry,” he said, the silence had become all too much as Bokuto still hadn’t said anything more. “I’m sorry it’s really stupid isn’t it-”

“I think you’re amazing.”

_What_.

“What?”

Had Bokuto been listening at all? The fact that he never made it far, and compared himself to Oikawa to the point that he hated himself? And that he hated failing but that was all he ever got to do? Not to mention that he broke down over almost every single goddamn competition because he couldn’t handle it like a normal person. _What_? Just… what?

“The fact that it scares you so much, and that you do it anyway. And you work so hard for it every year. Akaashi that’s so cool, you’re _amazing_.”

“I’m...” _I’m amazing?_

Confusion overtook Akaashi’s face as he leveled Bokuto with an expression that did an impressive job showcasing this to him. The hockey captain’s focus was elsewhere though. Perhaps he had zoned out, but his eyes remained trained on the dull blue of Akaashi’s own. The atmosphere suddenly felt physically heavier with something serious and unspoken. It was something that went right over Akaashi’s head. His eyes were searching Bokuto’s face, as if he would find some clue as to what was going on there, and perhaps he found it for a split second when the bright yellow flicked downward toward the lower half of Akaashi’s face. Before he could process what was happening, he was being gently pulled closer toward the other boy.

_Wait_. 

Akaashi’s eyes widened. 

_Wait wait wait._

Another hand had found itself on Akaashi’s shoulder.

_Waitwaitwaitwaitwait-_

Muscular arms had wrapped themselves around the figure skater. A hug. Compared to the overexposed chill of the ice, the only word that could be used to describe Bokuto was _warm_. It was similar to a weighted blanket on a winter morning, in which the heavy warmth was difficult to leave when only the biting cold awaited him. It was in itself its own kind of comfort. Akaashi’s face was buried in his shoulder, and from there he could only see a slim line of ice that wasn’t obscured by muscle, and he could only smell what he guessed was dryer sheets and perhaps sweat. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, but in its own weird way, it was entirely Bokuto.

Bokuto’s hugs were just like him, Akaashi realized. They were warm and overbearing and maybe a little too tight but just like him, and Akaashi found himself missing it when Bokuto finally pulled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also a big thanks to my friend ;) julia if you're reading this i love you and i'm sorry for texting you at three in the morning with my random ideas for any fics i try to write <3


	14. Hellebore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga is perceptive,  
> Akaashi is not,  
> Hinata just wants to be good enough.
> 
> Hellebore: Anxiety  
> Wow a Song: Dead Weight -Jack Stauber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a mess so keep that in mind before continuing (also my internet has been swanky these past few days so grammarly has been on and off,, seriously i didn't know just how much i relied on it before all this)

_Oh, what the hell can I do?_   
_To fill the pages?_   
_Meet the strangers?_   
_Kiss the girl, take it in, feel the ages?_

_______________

_“I think you’re amazing.”_

_His cheeks felt stiff from the tears that had dried there. The cold of the ice rink seeped through his skin, but the side of his face felt hot under Bokuto’s hand. Intense yellow had burned its way through his mind, taking up any and all space in his brain._

_“You’re so cool, Akaashi.”_

_A smile edged its way onto his face, incredulous. “You think I’m cool?”_

_The corners of the yellow were pushed up by a blinding grin. “The coolest!”_

_He was getting closer, his other hand coming up to settle on his shoulder, and slide upwards on his neck. Another hug? Akaashi relaxed into the warmth of Bokuto’s touch, he wouldn’t mind another one, the ice felt all too cold at the moment, and nothing sounded better. Something was off, though. The air felt too heavy, as if he were breathing through cotton, and something weighed down on his shoulders, something important. Everything felt as if it were going in slow motion, like they were moving through air, thick, with the consistency of honey._

_“You’re amazing.”_

_They were still making eye contact, he noticed. They were getting awfully close and yet Akaashi found that he hadn’t moved away. Perhaps he was stuck, he felt entranced by the yellow that shined down on him. His eyes, they almost looked gold. Bokuto seemed to be hyper-focused on Akaashi’s lips, his face had fallen into the same expression he wore when he watched him skate._

_“You’re amazing.”_

_They were mere inches from one another, and alarms rang in Akaashi’s head. Something was odd here, this wasn’t at all like what happened last time. It felt too… heavy, this time around._

_Bokuto was rapidly closing the distance between them._

_“You’re-”_

A dull pain on the back of his head caused his eyes to shoot open.

Akaashi swore he could still feel the chill of the rink on his arms, and the warm breath of another on his upper lip. His hand came up to rub at the back of his head, carding through the tangles that had made themselves at home there. He had to blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden light that attacked him head-on, and he wasn’t sure how long it was before Akaashi realized someone was laughing. 

“‘Kaashi,” Oikawa had to pause in order to wheeze. “Are you okay?”

Akaashi’s hand spread over his mouth, partially covering the heavy coat of red that was rapidly spreading across his face. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream.

_What the fuck kind of dream was that?_

He looked down at his lap to find Oikawa’s legs resting there, the pristine white of his shoes shifting with every bout of laughter. “You fell asleep and you slammed your head against the window.” Akaashi didn’t even have to look up at the other figure skater to know that he was smiling. “So what happened? Was it one of those dreams where you’re falling and you wake up right before you crash?”

A flash of yellow dared to show itself to Akaashi behind closed eyelids. “Uh,” His hand pressed down harder over his mouth. “Yes.”

He would rather gut himself than tell Oikawa that he just dreamt of Bokuto kissing him.

They were settled in the back of Takeda’s car, Akaashi had pushed himself against the window and had presumably fallen asleep while Oikawa took the liberty to stretch himself out. Suga was sitting up front, glued in a lively conversation with the skating coach. The car was sitting in the parking lot of the oversized ice rink. The building loomed over them, and a tired pang of nervousness made itself known in Akaashi’s chest.

“Why’d you let me sleep?” He asked, cringing at how rough his voice sounded. Really. Why did they let him sleep? The clear and definitely _not real_ image of Bokuto leaning impossibly closer to him made Akaashi want to throw himself into oncoming traffic. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t normal to have dreams like that about your friends, as least, Akaashi didn’t think so.

Something akin to burning shame rose in this throat. How would Bokuto feel if he ever found out? Uncomfortable? Disappointed? Betrayed? Akaashi didn’t want to think about it. 

Akaashi knew he liked boys. It never came as a big revelation to him, it was just another part of him that he lived with. He wasn’t exactly vocal about it though, if someone asked, he would answer honestly. But he never felt the need to let anyone know. So the fact that he just dreamt of kissing a boy wasn’t a shock, no- the shock was that the boy in question was _Bokuto_ , of all people.

Akaashi sighed, too much was going through his head at the moment. The competition was in a few hours, he had a lab due tomorrow that he hadn’t started on, and he just kissed Bokuto (sort of… not really). Where could he even begin? Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up in his seat. He hated feeling groggy.

“We decided to let you sleep because the dark circles under your eyes were making you look like a raccoon,” Oikawa said, assessing him with his chin propped up by his hand. “I’m still waiting for my thank you.”

Akaashi frowned. “Keep waiting.” 

“Hinata and Kageyama should be here soon,” Suga spoke up from the front seat, relaying the message from his phone. He looked up at coach Takeda. “Should we start heading in?”

The older man shook his head. “You know Hinata’s tendency to get lost. We should just wait it out a few more minutes and go in together.”

It wasn’t long before Kenma’s car rolled up beside them. It was an older model that Kenma didn’t much care for, and he was sure to let anyone that had been in it know just that. The morning sun caught on the chipped red paint and even from within a different car Akaashi could hear the bass pumping from Kenma’s speakers. Judging from the upbeat rhythm Kenma must’ve let Hinata have the aux cord again.

He closed the door of coach Takeda’s car behind him as Akaashi waited for everyone to pile out.

“Next time dumbass, the volume level does _not_ go past ten.” Kageyama growled, angrily throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Or I’ll make sure that you never get the aux again.”

The redhead blew a raspberry at him. “Lame. Its not my fault you have to get your ears checked. I mean, is it even a good song if you don’t turn the volume all the way up?”

“Idiot! You wouldn’t know good music even if it jumped up and bit your nose.”

An arm weighed down on Akaashi’s shoulder, it seemed as though Oikawa finally made his way out of the backseat. “Tsk tsk, its competition day and you guys have the confidence to just argue, huh?”

Hinata’s head snapped up to look at the brunette figure skater. The look in his eyes told Akaashi that the boy had almost forgotten about the competition. At least Kageyama was good at distracting him, even though it was through their usual bout of arguments.

Akaashi shrugged his way out from under Oikawa’s arm, turning around to grab his own bag. “At least they’re not nervous.”

Oikawa scoffed. “You’re the one to talk, huh?”

He ignored the glare Akaashi shot his way and instead focused on Suga, who was currently looking down at his phone with his eyebrows knit tight. “Everything okay hunny?”

The term of endearment went right over Suga’s head as he typed out a reply before acknowledging him. “Yeah… its just- they’re coming earlier than I thought.”

“Who?” Akaashi questioned.

“Oh your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” 

Akaashi narrowed his eyes at Oikawa, his chest tightening at the memory of Dream Bokuto’s breath on his lips. “My _what_ -?”

“Oikawa.” Suga’s voice edged on stern, and it shut the brunette figure skater up faster than Akaashi had ever seen. He made sure to take note of that. The slight downturn of Suga’s lips eased when he faced Akaashi. “Daichi’s driving some of the hockey players over, they said they wanted to watch you guys perform. I just didn't think they’d be here so soon.”

It was obvious that Bokuto was included in the alleged “some” and Akaashi wasn’t sure if he was ready to face him so soon. There was no pushing that dream to the side, it was currently paying off loan for a downpayment on an moderately-sized apartment in the forefront of his mind. Akaashi couldn’t repress it- it lived there now, and it had horrible timing.

“Is Iwa coming?” Oikawa asked. “I made sure to tell him to free up his schedule for today.”

“No. Iwaizumi also made sure to tell Daichi not to pick him up because he had plans.” Suga looked up at him from the screen of his phone. “Looks like you didn’t do a good job.”

Oikawa’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line. “That’s fine.” It was most certainly not fine. “I’ll just have to talk to him on Tuesday, yeah?”

They watched as Oikawa spun on his heel. “God help him,” Suga said, before looking back down at his phone.

A quick -albeit prying- glance at Suga’s phone told Akaashi all he needed to know. He was giving Daichi updates on what was happening. He assumed the other boy was currently driving, and wondered how he’d react to the spew of texts that awaited him. He didn’t know much about the relationship between Suga and Daichi, other than the fact that they talked often enough, and that they might _like_ like each other. Thinking about it, the two seemed close even before the hockey players made use of their rink. Would a few classes even call for that? Akaashi wasn’t sure. He sighed, chalking his nosiness up to be a product of nervousness- the heart of most of his problems lay just in front of him.

Today would be the junior regional ice skating competition, one of the qualifiers for the national championships. It would weed through countless figure skaters before deciding on who would go to the next competition. Akaashi pulled hard on one of his fingers, all he had to do was place in the top four today. Something twisted in his gut. He couldn’t even fool himself into making it _sound_ easy.

“If everyone’s ready, we’re gonna start on our way inside!” Something in coach Takeda’s voice made Akaashi hesitate to step forward. 

He must be nervous too, right? It was his program that Akaashi was performing that day, surely he must be anxious to see how it compared to the other skaters. Each step felt like agony, his legs dragging with the weight of lead and yet persistent restlessness urged him onward. Takeda trusted that Akaashi would use his program to its fullest potential, and he trusted that Akaashi wouldn’t waste it. 

He didn’t know if he could fulfill that promise.

Akaashi wasn’t sure how long it had taken to cross the parking lot, but by now they were pushing through the main entrance of the building. A strong wave of air conditioning crashed over them, and he pushed his hands further into the pockets of his jacket in retaliation. They were greeted with a spacious foyer. Shining tile squeaked under the soles of their shoes, and everything in the room was subjected to the intense lights overhead. It was bright, and much to Akaashi’s dismay, he felt another headache coming on.

Other figure skaters stood clumped along the walls of the room. They stayed in small groups, keeping light conversation despite the nervous air that flooded the space. It was the calm before the storm, and while they didn’t exactly show it, Akaashi could tell that most of the others there were feeling similar to him. Whether it was in the nervous laughs that echoed through the room, or the slight tremor in someone’s hands, it was difficult not to get swept up in the feel of it all. 

“You all can relax for a few minutes,” Takeda said, rifling through his own bag. “I have to go and finish up some paperwork, you know the drill.”

Akaashi’s hands flew up in front of him and he subconsciously resumed pulling on the digits. He recognized a few faces from the past competitions, and tried to remember how they performed. He wasn’t able to summon up any information, his mind was moving too fast. What was once a simple train of thought had somehow morphed into river rapids, carrying along any coherent thoughts in its flow, too fast to make a grab at. Everything was slipping through his fingers, and he desperately needed something to hold onto. 

A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. It was Suga.

“Do you want some aspirin?” 

Akaashi blinked. “Hm?” He wasn’t prepared for a question. 

“Well, you usually get headaches when you’re stressed right? I figured it’d be best to catch it early before it gets too bad.”

Add that to the list of reasons why Suga was a mind reader.

One mouthful of water later and the pill was down. He kept the water bottle held tight in his hand afterwards, fiddling with the cap and the paper wrapping.

“He’s stressed too, you know.”

He followed Suga’s line of sight and found Oikawa messing with Kageyama. Hinata was nowhere to be seen, he must’ve run off to the bathroom.

It was difficult to read Oikawa most of the time, seeing as though the boy was constantly surrounded by a thick layer of smugness. Not many were able to peel that back and see what lay underneath. Suga, however, was quick to decipher his slightest movements, it was almost superhuman. Nothing in the boy’s body language portrayed nervousness, he almost looked entirely carefree. Oikawa’s posture was relaxed, and a confident smile was tacked onto his face.

“Did he tell you this?” A confused frown tugged at the corner of Akaashi’s mouth.

A bubble of laughter escaped Suga. “No, of course not. I can just tell.”

“How?”

“He talks a lot when he’s stressed- he likes to hype himself up. Also he tends to pick on other people more.” Suga shrugged. “Its just little habits, really.”

“So adding in the fact that Iwaizumi isn’t coming…?”

“He’s really upset.”

_But he’d never show it._ Akaashi felt that perhaps he should take the initiative to hide his nerves as well. It could’ve been that he was looking for it, but Oikawa’s shoulders looked just a little tense from then on out. He wasn't sure if the fact that Oikawa wasn’t completely carefree helped his nerves or not. 

“Where’s Kenma?” He asked instead, pushing his recent revelation into the sweeping current that was his mind.

“He’s outside,” Suga answered, changing his hold on his bag. “I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for Daichi and the others.”

“Okay guys, are you ready to go?” Takeda had returned from the registration area. Stress had clearly taken its toll on the man, as his hair was tousled and his glasses sat crooked on the bridge of his nose. Was there a single person in the room that didn’t appear to be frazzled?

“Hinata’s still in the bathroom,” Kageyama muttered, irritation marred his features as the pair skater squeezed a bottle of water tight in his hands. Something was clearly bothering him.

Oikawa sighed. “Well, we can’t leave him in there…” 

“I’ll go get him.” Akaashi stepped forward, shoving his own bottle into the side pocket of his practice bag. If he was going to be honest with himself, Hinata had been in there for a while, and experience proved that the redhead tended to run into trouble more often than the average person. So his worry was more than fitting in this situation.

He left his bag with Suga and weaved his way through the crowd, steadily making progress toward the doors that were tucked near the back of the foyer. The other figure skaters stood clumped in small groups, making conversation that echoed off the walls and went straight to Akaashi’s brain. He wasn’t sure when the aspirin was due to kick in, but he hoped for the sake of his sanity that it was soon. 

The door to the bathroom came into view, and Akaashi had to fight back a breath of relief, hoping that maybe, _just maybe_ , it would be the tiniest bit quieter in there. Just as he was reaching for the handle of the door, he made eye contact with someone who had pushed themself into the corner of the foyer. They stood a little ways away from the bathroom entrance, and had successfully distanced themself from everyone else in the room. Akaashi couldn’t see much of their face, as the pristine white cloth of a mask was pulled over their nose, and the curled ends of their dark hair threatened to hang over their eyes. Their gaze was intense and, if anything, strangely analytical. It was pinpointed on Akaashi’s face, as if they were trying to recall something from distant memory. 

Something in Akaashi’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, he felt like he was being picked apart. He wasted no more time in darting into the bathroom for cover. Leaning his back against the door, Akaashi took a moment to close his eyes and attempt to steady his breathing. Something about how that person looked at him- it was like he was standing on the middle of the ice, all eyes on him as he started to perform. It was quietly overwhelming, and nothing like how Bokuto looked at him. The hockey captain looked at Akaashi like he had hung all the stars in the sky, but that person, they only seemed to be assessing him on the mistakes that they were yet to see. He bit his cheek, Akaashi wasn’t sure if he would be able to withstand an entire day filled with this sour feeling. 

“Akaashi?”

He pried his eyes open and saw Hinata in front of the sink, his arms were spread wide on the marble counter to steady himself as he leaned sharply forward. His face was wet, and the surrounding hairs were darkened with water as the small droplets hung hesitantly on the stands. The shorter boy had been splashing generous amounts of water on his face, and the stain around the collar of his shirt only further proved this.

He righted himself and gave a small nod. “Hinata,”

The boy only offered Akaashi a blank stare, oblivious to the drop of water that was carving a path over the swell of his cheek and stretching down toward his neck. He seemed to be lost in thought. This was an all-too-familiar situation for Akaashi.

He went to grab a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, and made his way to the pair skater. “Everyone’s waiting for you out there.” Akaashi paused, seeing that the boy made no move to take the paper towels that he held out for him, and instead opted to wipe Hinata’s face himself. It wasn’t like it was the first time this happened. “Is everything okay?”

Hinata blinked a few times, it seemed as though he were just now registering Akaashi’s words, and the towel that was gently patting his forehead. “Yeah… yeah I’m fine.” He showed him a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Sorry for making everyone wait. I didn’t mean to.”

By now, Akaashi was working the cheap material of the paper towels in the wet roots of Hinata’s hair. “Are you nervous?”

“Well yeah,” an uncharacteristically dry chuckle came from the redhead. “But you wouldn’t get it.”

Akaashi’s eyebrows nearly rose up to his hairline. The crystal clear mental image of Bokuto having to hold Akaashi steady as he struggled to breath came to mind. _I wouldn’t get it, huh?_ “Try me.”

The room stayed quiet for a few moments, the only noise coming from outside, where the murky rumble of conversation slipped under the door. Akaashi almost thought that Hinata wasn’t willing to expand upon his statement, and he considered dropping it until the other boy finally got around to opening his mouth.

“Its just,” Hinata paused, his eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to put his words together. Clearly this was something he had been mulling over for a while. “You and Oikawa and Kageyama and Kenma, and all the others, you’re all so talented. I try to skate better and catch up but, I don’t feel like I can. They all just keep getting better and I can’t-” something in his voice broke ever so slightly. “I don’t feel like I can keep up. I’m scared that I won’t be good enough for him, Akaashi. Kageyama is really good at what he does, he’s amazing. He can be such a good figure skater, and I feel like I’m just holding him back.” He looked up at the other boy and Akaashi nearly startled at the tears that swam in his eyes. “What if I mess up today and he finds someone else to skate with?” 

Akaashi pressed his lips close together, it felt like someone had shoved wads of cotton down his throat. What Hinata just confessed, it sounded awfully close to what went through Akaashi’s head most days. How could he comfort Hinata against the very same insecurities that he himself harbored? The words he needed were slow to come to him. Hinata was always so energetic and unbelievably optimistic. He never would’ve thought that the perky redhead could be bothered by things such as this. Thinking back to all the things that Kageyama had shouted to him out of pure frustration, they had an effect on Hinata at times like these. Each and every insult had piled up, and it was now that they weighed down on the shorter boy when the tension had pulled taut at everyone’s nerves.

He took a deep breath, and dried the last bit of water that had puddled near Hinata’s ear. He needed someone to tell him that everything would be okay, and Akaashi wasn’t confident that he could be the person to do just that. He couldn’t help but feel like Suga would be handling this much better than him.

“Hinata, you have to trust me when I say that thinking like that will only eat you up inside. You’re doing wonderfully, and the fact that you’re standing here right now only proves that.” Akaashi paused, focusing on Hinata’s face for any reactions. If he was being honest with himself, he had no clue what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if his pep talk was going well, since he was more used to receiving them if anything. “And with Kageyama- well, I can’t tell you for sure why he chooses to do pair skating, but he chose you for a partner. And that’s got to mean something, because not a lot of people would be able to skate with him. You’re not holding him back, you never have. Everyone’s nervous for today, but I promise you, that you two will do great, you’ve been working hard for this.”

The last of Akaashi miniature speech rang off of the tiled walls, but his gaze never strayed from the other boy’s wide eyes. He wasn’t expecting much, but his head still jerked back when tears spilled past Hinata’s eyes. “Wh- wait.” He turned and grabbed another paper towel, he didn’t think he was _this_ bad at talking to people. “Wait don’t cry, what-”

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” A watery laugh slipped out of Hinata’s throat as he furiously wiped away the hot tears that streaked his freckled cheeks.

Some of the tension that had built in Akaashi’s shoulders eased. What he wouldn’t give for a nap at the moment. He gave Hinata some space as he used the offered paper towels to clean his face again.

“Thanks. I’m sorry for being weird.” Hinata ran a hand through his hair, effectively ruffling it as he turned to check his reflection in the mirror one last time.

Akaashi only hummed as he held the door open for him. A very large part of him was glad that they were the only ones in the bathroom at the time. 

The foyer was just as loud as before, perhaps louder with the excitement that now charged the air. The two of them were just about to push themselves through the crowd when Akaashi stopped at the sound of his name. It was a deep voice, one that sparked a memory from somewhere deep in his mind. He looked over his shoulder and was met with the same intense stare from before- it was the masked person from the corner of the room.

The person’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at Akaashi’s hesitation. 

“You’re Akaashi,” It was less of a question, and more of a statement, as if Akaashi hadn’t been aware of this fact.

He kept his focus on the person before him, if he looked hard enough, he could see what appeared to be two identical moles on his forehead. Something about that made Akaashi feel restless.

“Yes.” He fought back the urge to pull on his fingers in front of them. There was something about them, something he couldn’t quite name-

_Wait. Is that-_

He heard Hinata gasp beside him. “Oh my God, you’re Sakusa Kiyoomi!” 

Sakusa flinched from the sound of his name being spoken so loudly, and that was the only indication that he heard Hinata. Other than that, he completely ignored the excitable pair skater and kept his attention on Akaashi. “So you’re competing again this year?

Akaashi felt like he was sitting in a classroom with a test laid out in front of him. “Yes.”

Sakusa’s dark eyes narrowed. “Interesting.”

Their interaction was painstakingly brief and left Akaashi with more questions than he would ever be okay with. They made their way back to the group, and he humored Hinata’s grumbling all the while. His complaints weren’t exactly baseless, Akaashi figured. Sakusa had to be one of the top figure skaters in the junior division. He was Akaashi’s age, and yet he managed to place beyond the international championships. Just like Akaashi, he only had a few more years until he would be skating outside of the junior league, and everyone had high hopes for him. Sakusa was famous for his perfection on the ice, he flowed through his programs with deceptive ease, landing successive jumps that made Akaashi’s head spin on his shoulders. 

He had the skill of what many incoming figure skaters would kill to have, and he _knew Akaashi’s name_. Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as such a shock, they had been competing against one another for a few years now, but the fact that Sakusa _fucking_ Kiyoomi knew his name- it made Akaashi feel sick. He knew his name, and he had been keeping an eye on him, apparently. The reason why was beyond him, but the simple idea of having not only the judges watching him skate but one of the top figure skaters in his division...

Akaashi just wanted a nap. He wanted to bury his head under his pillow and to wake up only to find that the whole day was just some twisted nightmare.

He still felt the other figure skater’s sharp gaze on him as Akaashi took advantage of the allotted practice time. It was the cold and persistent concentration that was coming from Sakusa which made Akaashi feel stiff on the ice. And on the completely different side of the spectrum, the hockey players had arrived, and Bokuto was waved eagerly whenever Akaashi made eye contact with him. They were seated in the audience, and Suga was constantly having to berate the hockey captain to settle down, but he remained unperturbed. 

Deep down, Akaashi knew that Bokuto was only trying to be supportive. With the number of smiles and thumbs-up he had received in that short amount of time, Akaashi’s chest felt warm. What Bokuto didn’t know, though, was how much he was making Akaashi want to shove his head into the ice beneath him. He couldn’t look at the hockey player without feeling overwhelmed- but in a completely different matter than before. Every time he saw Bokuto, he was taken back to the offending dream from earlier that day, the cold of Suga’s rink, the warmth of Bokuto’s hands, the intensity in his eyes-

Akaashi cleared his throat, covering his reddened cheeks with his hand. Between Bokuto, Sakusa, and Oikawa, he didn’t see his headache getting better anytime soon.

_Sorry Suga, but your efforts were all in vain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi: "bokuto lives rent free in my mind (but not really)"
> 
> the next chapter is akaashi's free skate and some good old oikawa content


	15. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa helps in his own way,  
> Akaashi skates,  
> Iwaizumi gets yelled at.
> 
> Bittersweet: Truth and Honesty  
> Wow a Song: Fever Dream -mxmtoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every single day i find myself deleting more and more angst from my drafts, and i don't know how much longer i'll be able to hold out lmao

_Life's a losing game when you don't play_   
_Don't hold your cards too close is what they say_   
_Now, love is just another leap of faith_   
_But I jump right in_

_______________

There was something about post-performance fatigue that Akaashi hated more than anything in the world. The previous adrenaline rush that had taken over when he first stepped onto the ice had long ago worn off, and it left him acquainted with a sudden bout of exhaustion. Sure, at the time it had supplied him with more than enough energy to get through the demanding combinations that his short program had. But now, all he had to show for it was the tremble in his hands and the persistent lightheadedness that only worked to worsen his headache.

Takeda ended up having to force feed Akaashi one of Suga’s granola bars. It was still a bitter mix of dried cherries and dark chocolate. It left an odd aftertaste that remained even after he finished off his water.

Akaashi sighed, holding his head in his hands. His short program hadn’t been a _complete_ disaster, but he couldn’t help but dwell on the areas that he could improve upon. In the last combination, for example, two of the jumps had been under-rotated. And while coach Takeda had tried to get him to brush it off, Akaashi ended up cursing himself when he saw how they lowered his score. It had earned him a cozy spot in sixth place. Which meant everything was resting on his free skate to send him onward. He’d have to be able to bump himself up two places, and so he couldn’t afford to screw up.

Oikawa was noticeably less stressed than him, and that was perhaps due to him placing second- right behind Sakusa.

“Come on, just try it.”

A frown pulled tight on Akaashi’s features. Maybe if he avoided eye contact he could put an end to the conversation before it even started.

“I know you’re ignoring me.” Oikawa tutted, the quick hiss of rope skidding against the concrete floor kept in time with the clock that hung above Akaashi’s head. “Stop sulking and just do it.”

This time Akaashi lifted his head up to give Oikawa a dull stare. The other figure skater was standing in front of him with his hands keeping a light hold on the ends of a brightly-colored jump rope. It was something Takeda had given him, and another one was laying dejectedly by Akaashi’s side. The idea was to keep the figure skaters warmed up when off of the ice, and while Oikawa was all for it, Akaashi just wanted to curl up under the bench he was sitting on.

“No thank you.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed on the boy before him. “I know you’re just gonna sit there and overthink yourself into oblivion until you’re called up. And by then you’ll be so moody that you mess up the free skate and it's all downhill from there.”

“That’s not-”

“ _Pick up the damn rope, Keiji_.”

Akaashi’s posture stiffened, and it took him a few seconds to comprehend the irritated tone in Oikawa’s voice after sending him a pointed look for using his given name. His right knee gave a tired pop as he pushed himself to stand. Grabbing the plastic handles of his jump rope, Akaashi shifted his weight from foot to foot as he looked down at the obnoxious chartreuse material. He supposed Oikawa meant well-

“Okay now I’m gonna teach you to do a crossover so watch closely.”

-or he just wanted to show off.

It was the same thing for nearly every competition. Oikawa would force a begrudging Akaashi to jump rope with him, and the former would try to teach him tricks. 

It was very much a one-sided enjoyment. 

It wasn’t that Akaashi was bad at it, the footwork came naturally to him (much to Oikawa’s disbelief). If he was to be honest with himself, Akaashi would probably have more fun doing it if he weren’t in the middle of a competition. It was difficult for him to get into the rhythm required when he was preoccupied overthinking about his performance thus far. 

And so Akaashi was inevitably left to watch Oikawa as he twisted the rope in midair, successfully skipping through the bright material in smooth, repeated motions that would’ve enraptured an entire courtyard of elementary schoolers. He followed suit, mimicking the subtle flick of the wrist that Oikawa used to shape the rope how he wanted. It only took a couple of tries until Akaashi was perfectly mirroring the other figure skater, albeit much less enthusiastically. When his focus began to wane, Akaashi tilted his head to the side, casting a curious glance toward the open entrance of the hallway they were currently in. Outside was the bustle of other figure skaters and their coaches, making haste to get to where they needed to go. From there, Akaashi could hear the announcer over the disorientating murmur of conversation. It seemed as though they were just beginning the free skate. 

When they weren’t on the ice, coach Takeda usually made sure that his students were out of sight. This mainly went for Akaashi, since he had learned that the boy was prone to freaking himself out when he saw the others perform. They ended up resorting to the old faithful “out of sight, out of mind” ploy over the years. He supposed it was efficient enough, but it didn’t stop him from worrying, Akaashi was sure nothing would.

“So how do you think you did so far?” Oikawa asked. Akaashi hadn’t realized that it had grown quiet in their little hallway.

“You saw the results.”

“I’m not talking about your score, I’m talking about _you_.”

Akaashi tucked away a quizzical expression, but Oikawa still saw it. “Jeez ‘Kaashi, you worry about placing so much.”

_That’s easy for you to say._ Akaashi’s eyebrow twitched, and he shifted his focus back to the repetitive skid of the jump rope every time it kissed the ground. “Of course I do,” he muttered instead. “It’s important to me that I do well.”

He kept his gaze pointed toward the entrance of the hall, choosing not to respond to the way Oikawa huffed. Akaashi wasn’t exactly intent on having a heart-to-heart with him, especially now, and especially about _this_. Him and Oikawa, they were complete opposites. It seemed as though everything came naturally to him, it was like he was born perfect. Oikawa was everything that Akaashi wasn’t, he had the social skills to get whatever he wanted, and he was overflowing with raw talent. Meanwhile Akaashi had to work himself to the bone just to keep up. He had long ago stopped crying about the unfairness of it all, but that didn’t change the fact that oftentimes the differences between the two were hard to miss.

Akaashi wasn’t exactly bitter about it, but he couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the gaping difference in skill.

“Why does it matter?”

Oikawa’s sharp voice had pulled him from his thoughts.

“Why does it matter that you do well?” He repeated, bringing the handles of the jump rope to a stop at his sides.

This time Akaashi didn’t hold back a sigh. He copied Oikawa in bringing his jump rope to a halt, and he found that he almost couldn’t look him in the eyes. “You know why.”

He pretended that the scoff Oikawa gave him didn’t make something in Akaashi’s gut twist. 

“Are you serious? That was so long ago.”

A painful spike of nostalgia shot through him. “I know.”

Oikawa pinched the bridge of his nose, looking every bit as tired as Akaashi felt. The conversation felt like it was taking years off his lifespan. By the time he looked back up, Oikawa had schooled his features into its usual show of slightly smug confidence. He stood tall, dropping the handles of the jump rope in favor of gripping the open lapel of his windbreaker. 

“I’m only going to say this once. Just so I don’t feed your ego too much.” Oikawa said, flicking his head to the side so as to brush the curled ends of his bangs out of his eyes. “You’ve been doing this for a long time- longer than me. And… not just anyone can make it to nationals.” He paused, seemingly fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Look what I’m trying to say is that you’re a really good figure skater. And it pisses me off when you act like this because it's like you don’t even know it. You- ugh!” He was progressively getting more irritated.

Akaashi’s frown deepened. “Well don’t go pushing yourself now.”

The corner of Oikawa’s lip curled into a playful sneer. He knew Akaashi felt just as awkward receiving his pep-talk as he did giving it. “I’ve gotta admit, Suga would be much better at this right now.”

“Isn’t he always?” It was more of a statement than a question.

The ringing of Akaashi’s voice didn’t even have time to settle into the perpetual quiet of the hallway when Oikawa spoke up again. This time, his words tumbled out of his mouth similar to the water of a broken dam. It was something that he had been thinking about for a while now, given the overwhelming lilt of curiosity. 

“So Shrimpy said something about Sakusa earlier,” Oikawa tried to brush it off as nonchalant with a light shrug of his shoulders, but even Akaashi could see right through him. “And it caught my attention.”

“Oh yeah?”

The brunette nodded. “Mhm. Apparently he talked to you earlier?”

“Is that so.”

Oikawa’s shoulders slumped. “Stop playing dumb! What did he say to you? Was he like, asking for directions, or something?”

The change in atmosphere was a welcome distraction from the commotion going on outside. Not to mention, he had information Oikawa was looking for, and the boy had been awfully troublesome lately… so Akaashi was in no hurry to give him what he wanted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Akaashi clicked his tongue, wrapping the length of the jump rope into an orderly loop before putting it aside. “Why couldn’t you just ask Hinata?”

Oikawa’s mood seemed to sour. “He was too busy complaining. Sakusa went and made him mad somehow.”

_Well he did ignore him..._

“But that’s beside the point.” The other boy leaned against the wall, purposely keeping unwavering eye contact with Akaashi. “What did he say?”

“I don’t see why it matters,”

“It matters because Sakusa doesn’t talk to anyone. He’s like some sort of recluse.” Oikawa’s eyes brightened as he snapped his fingers. “Like you.”

Akaashi’s face screwed into a frown. “Nothing happened. He just asked if I was competing again this year.” He pulled on his index finger absentmindedly. “Didn’t think he’d know my name, though.”

“Oh my God he knew your name!?”

“I know right?”

“He must be keeping an eye out for you.”

Oikawa looked excited now, much to Akaashi’s unending confusion. “Eh?”

“Well you know,” -Akaashi most certainly did not- “He’s one of the best in our division. I hear he targets other figure skaters when he thinks they’ll be a problem for him. Oh, look at you- you’re all grown up!”

“I’m not interested in your gossip, Oikawa.” Akaashi retorted, slipping off his jacket while he looked up at the clock. He would be up soon, if he remembered correctly. Though, the times during competition were almost always off, so when he’d be called to the ice was anyone’s guess.

He avoided Oikawa’s glare. The brunette was always one to dig into gossip- he loved knowing things about people that others didn’t. It didn’t help that Sakusa stayed away from others, so of course Oikawa would be eager to get his hands on any breadcrumbs of information people threw his way. 

Despite standing, Oikawa’s chin fell into his palm, perfectly complimenting the pout that was beginning to form on his lips. In that moment, he reminded Akaashi of Kageyama, but he kept that tidbit to himself. “Just because its gossip doesn’t mean you should dismiss it right away, you know.”

“I don’t have time for this,” he settled himself back onto the bench, reaching for his ice skates that had been leaning against the wall. “I’ll just take whatever he says at face value. I don’t really care, honestly.”

Well, that was a lie. Sakusa was an amazing figure skater, and his talent was indisputable. It sent Akaashi’s mind reeling when he said his name, because that meant that he knew about him, and had probably paid at least a bit of attention to him on the ice. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that fact, but it certainly wasn’t any semblance of _good_. During his short program, Akaashi could practically feel Sakusa’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head. 

Earlier, he had managed to catch him watching someone else perform, and just the thought of that intense concentration aimed his way made Akaashi’s throat tighten. Sakusa was deep in thought at the time, his eyes never leaving the form of the figure skater. Everytime they made a blunder during their program, Sakusa’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. He had been picking them apart, weighing all of their actions until their score was revealed.

He didn’t look the slightest bit surprised when he saw their score. It was as if he had predicted the damn thing down to the very decimal. 

And that scared the shit out of Akaashi. 

How many times had Sakusa given Akaashi “The Squint” when he did his short program? Probably enough to make his coach wonder if he needed glasses. Akaashi couldn’t fathom the amount of mistakes that he must’ve pinpointed in that short amount of time. Looking back on it, Sakusa was most likely interested that Akaashi was competing again because he didn’t think anyone could be so terrible and still return. He elicited a nervous hum as he continued to pull on his fingers. What would he think of Akaashi’s free skate, especially if it turned out to be a giant train wreck?

No. Akaashi chanced a grounding breath. His free skate wouldn’t be a train wreck. Why? Because he worked hard for it. He spent countless summer mornings making the trek to the rink while the sky was still dark. He knew the choreography like the back of his hand, and could recite every spin, jump, and rotation in his sleep.

_But working hard doesn’t mean it’ll turn out good-_

_No_. He’ll be fine. Akaashi knew what he had to do. It was just a matter of executing it- which he also knew he could do. All that was left was the overwhelming pressure of the audience, his coach, the judges, Bokuto, Oikawa, Sakusa-

Oh dear God if his headache got any worse Akaashi would be better left smashing his head into the cinderblock wall behind him.

“You stress yourself out too much. How you haven’t landed yourself in the hospital by now is beyond me.” Oikawa’s sing-song voice made Akaashi’s left eye twitch.

Akaashi considered himself above yelling, above throwing profanities at someone just because they irritated him. But _boy_ was Oikawa getting close.

“When you think really hard you get this look on your face,” Oikawa said, mistakenly taking Akaashi’s silence for the green light to continue talking. “Your lip curls up a little bit, and your eyebrows go down like that,” -he mimicked the expression- “and your eyes get all serious. It makes me wonder what you’re thinking about.”

“I’m thinking about the free skate,” Akaashi replied, because maybe if he humored him just this once… 

“Ooh I see.” Oikawa’s voice held a curious pitch to it. “You must be nervous huh? I don’t see what the big deal is. Sure, people are watching but it's not like they’re gonna stone you to death if you do bad. The only opinions that matter when you’re out there are the judges- everyone else can screw off.”

“Then what do I do when I still feel like everyone’s opinions still count,” Akaashi asked, raising an eyebrow at the other boy who seemed to have suddenly turned into his own rendition of a motivational speaker. He figured he might as well take advantage of whatever advice Oikawa would give him while he was still feeling helpful, and perhaps, sympathetic in his own way.

Oikawa brought a hand up to his chin. It was clear that he wasn’t expecting Akaashi to go along with it. “Well, I’ve heard of people skating for just one person during competitions.”

“That sounds corny.”

“Oh I totally agree. But maybe it’d be easier to focus on one person instead of a whole stadium? I don’t know,” Oikawa gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’m not weird like you.”

Akaashi ignored the last bit of Oikawa’s statement. But gave a small nod as he bent over to tie the laces of his skates. “Okay so… who would I even skate for? Coach Takeda?”

“No, no! You don’t skate for your coach. I mean, you could but- it's a little weird I think.”

“How?”

“You always skate for your coach, but with this, it’s usually someone special.” He took a moment to pause, waiting for more words to come to him. “Someone that you want to impress. It's almost like dedicating the program to them.”

Akaashi hummed in the thoughtful silence that ensued. He looked down at his handiwork, moving his ankle from within the tight restraint of the skate.

“Are you gonna skate for me?” Oikawa asked, sticky sweetness dripping off of his words that made Akaashi feel like he had just instantly gained cavities.

He didn’t even need to think about that one. “No.”

A fake groan of anguish ricocheted off the walls of the narrow hallway. “I help you overcome your fears and this is the thanks I get?”

Before Akaashi’s reply could even leave his mouth, a mop of brown hair popped into his peripheral vision. Coach Takeda stood near the entrance of the hall, motioning for Akaashi. “You’re up next!” He said, his glasses balanced precariously on the very end of his nose.

“Knock ‘em dead, tiger!”

He blatantly ignored Oikawa’s comment as he followed his coach out of the hall, and into the bustling crowd around the rink. This was it- Akaashi’s last chance to prove himself and qualify for the sectionals competition. The familiar numbing buzz of adrenaline threatened to spike through his legs as he waited by one of the openings to the ice. One of the other figure skaters, Hoshiumi, was completing the last half of his program. It was one of his first times competing, and the shorter boy almost reminded him of Hinata, but perhaps more intense. 

He was energetic, and he used that in full in his program, popping off of the ice in a quick series of jumps that would’ve left many others too tired to finish. Hoshiumi was talented, that was a given, and he left Akaashi almost wishing he could’ve watched his entire free skate. He looked up into the audience to see Bokuto. He was wedged between Kuroo and Suga, drawing the divide between the figure skaters and the hockey players that sat clumped together. 

A second glance proved that they weren’t as divided as Akaashi initially thought. Kuroo sat behind Kenma, hunched over in his seat to talk in the blond’s ear. He was too far away to clearly make out Kenma’s face, but he was sure that he was sporting a well-worn look of irritation. Daichi and Suga sat together, but they weren’t able to interact much seeing as though Bokuto kept turning to the gray-haired boy every other second to ask him a question. Based on past experience, it was likely the hockey captain was asking about figure skating. Suga appeared to be indulging in his questions, ever the saint he was even when he had to stop talking to Diachi mid-sentence just to answer Bokuto.

A familiar head of close-cropped dark hair blended in with the crowd a few rows over, and while Akaashi couldn’t exactly see the person, he also couldn’t ignore the spark of familiarity that came with the denim jack they looked to be wearing.

The frantic flailing of Bokuto’s hands drew Akaashi’s attention back to him. He almost thought that he had seen Akaashi standing on the sidelines, but instead, he watched as Bokuto pointed excitedly at Hoshiumi when he finished up his last combination. He was clearly impressed with the shorter figure skater, and even Suga nodded his approval. Had Bokuto been that impressed with every figure skater that he saw that day? Something heavy sunk to the bottom of Akaashi’s chest. Could he compare to them, then? He hadn’t been able to dwell on it for long, Takeda’s hand on his shoulder pulled his attention away from the crowd.

“You’re going to do great.” His coach said, a kind smile easing onto his face. “You’ve worked hard these past few months, and it shows. So no matter the outcome, be proud of yourself, okay?”

Akaashi jerked his head into a robotic nod. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Unease bubbled in his gut as Hoshiumi began to make his way off of the ice. He could do this, it wasn’t his first time competing, but it always felt like it. Akaashi distantly registered his name being called, and the shift in weight when he stepped onto the rink. The ice felt smooth beneath the blades of his skates, and the center of the rink came too quickly for him. 

He was there. It was the second time today, but still, it felt different now, heavier. He kept his gaze straight ahead, avoiding the eyes of the crowd that beat down expectantly on him. Nothing compared to this feeling, never before did Akaashi feel so exposed when he stood in the middle of the ice, fighting the urge to tug on the sleeves of his costume.

His costume. It was a simple ensemble, he made sure it was, despite Oikawa’s complaints. The top piece was long-sleeved, with a collar that rose half-way up his neck. The sleeves ballooned slightly at the ends until they were suddenly tightened by the fastenings on his wrists. The fabric was thin and faded from an off white around his shoulders to a dark blue that was gathered just below his ribcage. Something of a sash was around his waist, the dark fabric was pinned tight so as to keep the billowing material of his shirt from hanging any further. He left his pants as a standard black that matched the color of his skates. It was comfortable, he supposed, but not too flashy. Akaashi would never know how Oikawa was able to pull off his jumps in the costumes he wore for competitions, it remained a mystery and it was one of the few things he respected the brunette for. Not that he’d ever tell him.

Akaashi felt stiff and tried to force his posture to relax as he prepared himself to start. It felt as if it were all happening too soon for him to comprehend. The burning heat from the gazes all around him contrasted horribly with the cold of the ice below. He knew he couldn’t lose himself, he had to focus but the shake in his hands only emphasized his nerves. The breaths Akaashi took were uneven and did little to calm him, there were too many people he couldn’t-

_“...skate for one person instead of a stadium…”_

Oikawa’s advice had been stupid, and Akaashi was fairly certain that he had just ripped it from a Hallmark movie. He had scoffed at the idea then, but now that he was thrown in the middle of it all, Akaashi couldn’t help but wish that it would work. Akaashi clenched his fist as he readied himself to begin.

A single breath was all he was able to take before the familiar chords of a guitar wavered from the speakers around him. He worked to keep his breathing even as he pushed himself through the footwork centered around the opening of the song. Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi was able to see a quick flash of silver hair. Bokuto was there, just as he had always been. Somehow this lifted the overwhelming pressure that had weighed down on his chest if only just a bit.

Akaashi felt himself ease into the choreography, his body melting into the motions that he had practiced more times than he could count. His speed picked up just as the vocalist began his first line. Never in his life had those fifteen seconds of instrumental startup felt so long. 

Perfectly in time with the second half of the first verse, he geared himself up for a spin. He came into the movement a little too quickly for his liking but finished it without any complications. It was only the beginning, but Akaashi couldn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster. He batted away at the early optimism that thrummed behind his ribcage.

He sunk into the pause of the pre-chorus, his footwork following the sudden beats of the drums that emphasized the first line. While practicing, coach Takeda had been adamant that his movements needed to match perfectly with the song. It was Akaashi’s first time having anything with vocals included in his programs, he normally skated to classical pieces. With that in mind, he learned that he needed to exaggerate whatever move he made on the ice in order to complement the swooping rhythm of the vocals and the steady tempo of the instruments.

As he gathered momentum through a wide sweep of the rink, Akaashi swore that he saw the shine of eager yellow eyes. It all felt so weirdly nostalgic if Akaashi could call it that. Here he played through something that had happened countless times before, skating under the blinding lights of the rink, accompanied by a curious and persistent hockey player. It had been something that took up nearly all of his mornings, and over the past two months, Akaashi had grown used to starting the day with him and Bokuto on the ice together. And during that time, Bokuto had always been there for him. He had stuck with Akaashi through too many moments of weakness and triumph alike in that rink, and he stayed for all of them. As he executed a toe loop, Akaashi realized that Bokuto had been there for him since the very first day they met.

Something in his chest tightened the slightest bit at the revelation.

Akaashi ignored the cold that had started to burn in his lungs, taking deep breaths as the frigid air of the rink hit the back of his throat. He had no time to consider the dull throbbing in his legs when the chorus ended, smoothing over into a short instrumental and signaling for Akaashi’s first combination. To the calming beat of the drums and the plucking of guitar strings, he sent himself into his jumps once he had garnered enough speed to do so. A salchow jump had always been one of the most reliable for Akaashi, which was why he was able to quickly pull off three rotations before easing into the flow of another jump.

He landed with a sharp exhale, willing himself not to get overly excited because, for once, everything felt like it was going well. As the song crawled onward, Akaashi danced through the footwork of his program. This was something he could do with his eyes closed by now, and he felt a smile pull on the corners of his mouth as he recalled the mornings spent with Bokuto, struggling to get him to record Akaashi while he practiced. He’d never know why he had such a hard time figuring out the camera on Akaashi’s phone, and it wasn’t long until he gave up and resorted to using his own. Together, they went through the multiple videos of Akaashi’s run-throughs. It helped him pinpoint the areas that he needed to go over. 

This part of the program had been something he was having trouble with, and he ended up redoing the sequence so many times that Bokuto learned it as well. His smile only grew when Akaashi remembered his shout of laughter as Bokuto failed to balance himself out as he rehearsed it, and that day the hockey captain had grown close to the ice. He had the bruises to prove it.

For what must have been the millionth time, Akaashi wondered why Bokuto stayed with him. Surely it would’ve been much easier to leave Akaashi the moment he realized just how troublesome the figure skater actually was. This included his very first time stepping foot in Suga’s rink. It hadn’t exactly a good first impression after all, and it further left Akaashi wanting nothing more than to keep a safe distance from Bokuto after the first week of them meeting. He almost laughed in the middle of skating his program, so much for that idea. Now he couldn’t have imagined how the past two months would’ve gone without the exuberant hockey captain at his side.

It was beyond Akaashi’s understanding, but Bokuto had felt compelled to help him with his program in whatever way he could. He tagged along with Akaashi in his practices and while he may have unknowingly urged him to be better, he also made those mornings feel a bit lighter, filling the early hours with the sound of their combined laughter. It was all a stark contrast to the years Akaashi spent going through his programs alone, setting a brutal pace as the competition dates hung heavy on his shoulders. It was odd how he was just now noticing these things.

He remembered the first morning Bokuto had gone with him to the rink, and how Akaashi was hesitant at first to skate in front of him once more. With red cheeks he also dug up the memory of Bokuto holding his hands as he slid across the rink with him, telling him stories of his teammates. That morning Akaashi had been selfish when he went through the motions of his program, wanting to keep Bokuto’s attention on him for as long as he could. He’d be the first to admit that it was childish, but not much had changed. The excited expression Bokuto wore as Hoshiumi skated appeared crystal clear in his mind, and Akaashi couldn’t help but wonder how the captain looked now as he watched him.

The last instrumental came sooner than Akaashi realized, and he was already poised for his last combination of the program. It would soon be over- just three jumps lay between him and an end to the competition. Akaashi took one last breath as the chorus ended and the fast-paced plucking of guitar strings began. With a sharp turn, he sent himself into the air, his legs burning with the strain from each jump until he was able to land the very last one. 

His heart pounded and his chest heaved with each greedy intake of freezing air. Akaashi felt as though he had pushed himself to the limit, his body ached with each and every move he made, his muscles screamed for him to stop as he finished up the last of his footwork. Just as he began to suspect that he wouldn’t be able to take it for much longer, he came to a stop as the song’s last hard strum of a guitar rang out from the speakers of the rink. 

Akaashi found that he couldn’t hear anything over the frenzied knocking of his heart in his ears. But all that mattered in that moment was that he had finished his free skate, and it had been near-perfect. He slumped over the moment he deemed it safe to, his hands pushing against his knees as his lungs continued to make a desperate grab for air. All of his senses seemed to be completely overwhelmed at that point, the brightness of the ice below him, the harsh throbbing of overexertion in his legs, and the white noise that had filled his ears- Akaashi felt like he had been submerged underwater.

“ _Ahgaaashi_!”

The distant sound of his name being called forced Akaashi to lift his head and peer into the audience, and lo-and-behold, there was Bokuto. He had left his seat, his arms thrown over his head as he excitedly waved about a couple of thumbs-up.

A huff of quiet laughter pushed itself out of Akaashi’s mouth as he held up his hand to mirror the gesture.

Akaashi felt as though he were exhausted by default. And perhaps that was something he was responsible for- he stayed up ridiculously late to finish school assignments and he got up ridiculously early to go to the rink. Not to mention he survived solely off of carbs, iced coffee, and pure spite. Add in a heavy seasoning of stress and it made sense that Akaashi Keiji almost always seemed to be standing on his last leg. But that was going to have to change -for better or for worse- and Takeda would see to it that it would. After all, his days of competing weren’t over just yet.

Because Akaashi was sure his contacts must’ve been dislocated when he saw his results.

Because there was no way he had placed second.

Because there was no way he had been a measly few points away from stealing Sakusa’s spot in first.

Akaashi nearly cried. Because there was _no way_.

“Looks like my advice worked a little too well.” Oikawa sighed, wrangling an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders.

Once again, Akaashi ducked out from under his hold, clicking his tongue as he adjusted the strap to his practice bag. “Your advice didn’t do anything.” He paused, frowning as the strap got caught on the collar of his jacket. “Plus I just barely passed you, Oikawa.”

The other boy elected to ignore the last part that Akaashi had tacked onto the statement. “Says you.”

He shot Oikawa a watered-down glare. He was too tired to do much else.

“So ‘Kaashi, what were you thinking about out there?”

Akaashi side-stepped a group of figure skaters as they made their way back out to the foyer. It was growing increasingly crowded, with competitors streaming out of the building at an uneven pace. Takeda had gotten lost in the crowd, but Oikawa insisted that they’d meet up with him in the foyer.

He almost didn’t catch what Oikawa said, and when he did, it took a few seconds for Akaashi to process it. “Huh?”

“You were smiling out there.” A shit-eating grin spread on Oikawa’s face, and it was then that Akaashi decided that Kuroo was having a bad influence on him. As expected. “What were you thinking about? or _who_ were you thinking about? Hm?”

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking-”

“ _Agaashi_!”

Oikawa’s smile nearly doubled in size at that.

Akaashi’s head swiveled in the direction of his name and was once more met with Bokuto. The hockey captain appeared to be trying to cross the rapids of people that flowed through the foyer, but his bulking size made it more difficult than it normally would. Just behind him Akaashi could see the unmistakable bedhead of Kuroo and beyond that the familiar short dark hair that he vaguely remembered seeing in the audience. 

It seemed to be familiar to Oikawa as well, and right as they emerged from the crowd the brunette shrieked. Not even an entire room full of people was any match for a pissed off Oikawa Tooru. 

“ _Iwaizumi_!” The anger in his voice was poorly hidden, if at all.

_They’re on whole name basis now_. Akaashi’s blood ran cold.

“I can’t believe you!” Oikawa stalked up to the boy, pushing past a much younger figure skater who looked rightfully scared for her life. “I made you promise- you promised!”

“Yeah, and I kept it.” Iwaizumi looked increasingly irritated with the shouts that were being thrown his way and ended up thrusting a bouquet toward the livid figure skater. “I just had something I needed to take care of first.”

The blooms looked to be in rough shape as if they had been jostled for the past few hours, but it did the job in making Oikawa do a complete one-eighty. 

“Iwa!” His voice was back to being as sweet as honey as the figure skater gently gathered the flowers into his arms. “You totally didn’t have to do all this for me!”

Iwaizumi frowned. “You told me to.”

Akaashi had to look away as the two continued their conversation, he would never understand their relationship for the life of him. An annoyed huff caught his attention and Akaashi found it coming from an older woman that Bokuto must have bumped into, as he was apologizing profusely. She didn’t seem to be having any of it, and turned curtly on his heels, completely ignoring him. This didn’t seem to have any effect on the hockey captain though, because as soon as he locked eyes with Akaashi a real, genuine grin lit up his face and the entire room, he was sure.

“Agaashi!” Bokuto shouted with no concept of an inside voice as he lunged toward the figure skater.

Akaashi steeled himself, the hockey captain seemed to be coming in a little fast. “Bokut-!”

He ended up almost eating the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt as the figure skater was engulfed in a hug. Muscular arms wrapped themselves tightly around Akaashi, and he was sure he heard several small pops coming from his spine. He would never need a chiropractor so long as Bokuto was around.

“You did great out there! All your hard work paid off!” His voice was deafeningly loud in Akaashi’s ears, but he didn’t mind.

As soon as Akaashi’s brain caught up with him, he allowed his hands to come up to rest on Bokuto’s shoulder blades. He almost hesitated, seeing as though he was covered in dried sweat that came from him performing his program, but Bokuto didn’t seem to mind, and he supposed he wouldn’t either for the time being. As usual, he was warm, almost too warm in the crowded foyer but Akaashi found himself leaning into it nonetheless.

_“Who were you thinking about?”_

Oikawa’s cheeky voice echoed in the back of Akaashi’s head as he held onto the hockey captain just a bit tighter. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fully relax for the first time that day. The ecstatic grin that Bokuto wore when Akaashi finished his free skate came to mind and a smile pulled teasingly on the ends of Akaashi’s mouth.

_I was thinking about you, Bokuto._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really want to write an oikawa side story where he narrates it like the protagonist of a low-budget disney movie from the early 2000s.


	16. Gladiolus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi has a paper to finish,  
> Bokuto isn't fond of thunder,  
> The author's projecting again.
> 
> Gladiolus: Calmness And Remembrance  
> Wow a Song: Call I Call You Tonight? -Dayglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't intend for this chapter to take so long, school started earlier this week and i ended up staring guiltily at the half-finished draft. honestly its a mircale i've gotten this far with this fic...
> 
> anyway here's the boys having a late night call,, it's one of the very first ideas i've had for this so i'm excited to finally be able to write it
> 
> sorry for rambling,,, :,)

_So can I call you tonight?_   
_I'm trying to make up my mind_   
_Just how I feel_   
_Could you tell me what's real?_   
_I hear your voice on the phone_   
_Now I'm no longer alone_

_______________

Something was wrong. But Akaashi couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It was as if something inside his head had shifted after the competition. It was subtle at first, but by now it appeared to be a growing problem- _problem_ being a loose term. Akaashi wasn’t exactly sure what it could be called, per se, but at this rate, he was concerned.

Akaashi couldn’t stop thinking about Bokuto. 

He groaned at the acknowledgment and slipped a hand under his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. The image of the computer screen in front of him had to have burned through his eyelids by now.

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, or what had caused it, but for some inexplicable reason, the hockey captain had made himself at home in Akaashi’s frontal lobe. And he didn’t appreciate it whatsoever. Akaashi considered himself a busy person, he found that he hardly had time to himself all thanks to his ever-growing pile of school assignments, as well as coach Takeda’s sudden uncompromising training regime. So when his brain decided to pull up one of the many times he spent with Bokuto - _completely unprompted mind you_ \- Akaashi couldn’t help but get irritable. 

It could be anything, from Bokuto’s booming laughter to the way he hugged him a little too tight, or God forbid, the unnamed incident in the locker room that involved the hockey captain’s bloody nose. Anything at all, and the result was instant: his cheeks would burn and his brain would suddenly turn into nothing short of dandelion fuzz. 

Not to mention that damning feeling of his chest tightening to an impossible degree.

For a fleeting moment, Akaashi had wondered if he was sick, and the symptoms had only then decided to worsen after two long months. But part of him knew better, and he wasn’t sure if ruling off illness was a good or a bad thing. Because either way the initial cause still remained to be seen.

A despairing groan floated from Akaashi’s lifeless form as he slumped forward on his desk. Never before had writing a report proved to be so tedious. It had to be one of his worst papers yet- he couldn’t get his point across through his poorly constructed argument. The sentences had no flow to them, and the paragraphs that he managed to soldier through felt blocky and altogether off. That was partially due to the fact that he hadn’t slept for the past forty hours, and that he ended up having to stop mid-sentence when he was inevitably bombarded with vivid flashbacks of Bokuto leading him around the ice of Suga’s rink. The warmth of Bokuto’s hands and the softness in his eyes as he talked to Akaashi about the things that he enjoyed…

A clap of thunder jerked Akaashi out of his thoughts, and he slid back into his chair, his hands running over his face in agitation. He couldn’t get anything done like this.

The clock on the corner of Akaashi’s desktop showed it was nearly one in the morning, and something sunk in his gut when he realized he still had so much more to do. He breathed hard through his nose as he reached for the water bottle on his desk. It took him a bit of mindless fiddling before he was able to pop the cap off and take a quick swig. If there was one thing Takeda had been adamant about, it was fixing Akaashi’s horrible diet so he could be in better shape to skate. After getting a thorough talking-to from his coach, he was sure to start out by taking a break from coffee. And that meant having to resort to water. It was all so unfulfilling- he felt like he was being punished.

But Akaashi would rather break his leg than disappoint his coach, so with that, he took another sip and narrowed his eyes at the distinct lack of flavor.

His chair creaked as he sat back and skimmed through his unfinished report, dissatisfaction causing his free hand to nervously tap at his armrest.

Outside, the rain beat against his window in maddening droves. Akaashi wasn’t even able to see the warning flash of lightning before angry shouts of thunder echoed throughout the sky. He could feel its vibrations against the surface of his desk when it came. The storm had been sudden, and not even the weather report on his phone had been able to predict its intensity. Akaashi didn’t mind though, he enjoyed the white noise that the rain provided him, but he wasn’t as appreciative of the lightning that caused his lights to flicker every time it hit.

His room was dark, save for the soft glow of his lamp, and the contrasting harshness of his computer screen. The low melodic whine of a violin streamed from Akaashi’s computer, courtesy of one Mr. Johann Bach. After his years of skating to programs set to classical pieces, he ended up having a soft spot for certain composers, Bach being one of his favorites.

Akaashi took the risk of closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the worn padding of his desk chair. His eyes stung from all of the straining they had been doing for the past few hours, and he ended up slipping his glasses off of his face while he enjoyed a few moments’ respite in the comfortable darkness. A loud rumble of thunder caused everything that hung on his bedroom walls to shake. 

Akaashi’s eyebrows pinched closer together, if he just cranked out one more solid argument for his report, he should be able to get away with a low ‘A’. His english teacher tended to be rather flexible with her scoring so maybe everything would work itself out in the end? He scowled. Akaashi prided himself on his papers, and he’s never had such issues completing one before. He idly wondered if this was how Bokuto felt when Akaashi had to keep him on track for his essay on Hamlet. They were on call at the time as he rushed to finish his paper, using Akaashi as his personal dictionary all the while.

_“...and in planning to avenge his father, Hamlet’s behavior spirals into something more prolific.” Bokuto’s voice sounded slightly fuzzy through the speaker of Akaashi’s phone as the hockey player read his essay out loud to him._

_“Wait, what was that?” Akaashi asked._

_“What?”_

_“That word, prolific. Why are you using it there? It doesn’t fit.”_

_“What do’ya mean?”_

_“What do you think prolific means?”_

_Bokuto paused, and Akaashi could hear the gears turning in his head. “Like, uh, bad. Or scary.”_

_Bad or scary… The words sifted through Akaashi’s brain. “Bokuto do you mean_ horrific _?”_

_“Oh yeah!” The sharp sound of a computer’s keyboard being pounded into shot through to Akaashi’s end of the line. “I mean, it's the same thing, right? They do rhyme.”_

_Akaashi couldn’t stop the tired laughter in his words. “Just because the words rhyme doesn’t mean they have the same definition.”_

To this day Akaashi never understood how Bokuto was able to pull up the word prolific before anything else. A smile had involuntarily climbed onto his face as he recalled Bokuto’s excited shouting over the phone when he submitted his essay a whole minute before the deadline. 

The smile quickly fell when Akaashi opened his eyes and was met with pure darkness. He would never admit it, but for a millisecond Akaashi feared he had gone blind, but when a dejected flash of lightning came from outside his window, he realized it was something much worse.

The power had gone out.

Akaashi cursed in the ringing silence of his room, blinking against the darkness he found himself submerged in. He turned toward the blank monitor of his computer, it looked as though he would have to get a rain cheque on his paper. He still had to complete a handful of other assignments, one of which included a dreaded lab report. They seemingly never ended. Even if he took sleep out of the equation, Akaashi wasn’t sure how he’d be able to finish everything before tomorrow, seeing as though nearly all of it was online. 

The loud rattling of his phone as it vibrated against his bedside table pulled Akaashi’s attention away from his reflection on the computer screen. He pushed off of his desk and allowed his chair to roll the short distance to his bed. As the call screen on his phone lit up his entire room, Akaashi realized he left his glasses at his desk. Despite this, the fuzzy blotches of color from too many emojis that sat by the caller ID meant it could only be one person.

Curiosity fueled him to pick up the phone. “Bokuto?”

The response was instantaneous. “ _Hey hey hey!_ ”

Akaashi had to hold the phone away from his ear lest he be assaulted by the deafening greeting. “It's late, why are you awake?”

“ _Oh no reason,_ ” thunder rumbled through the room, and if Akaashi listened closely he could hear something similar happening on the other end of the line. “ _I just- I couldn’t sleep_.”

Akaashi didn’t miss the slight stutter in Bokuto’s voice. “Are you…” He couldn’t believe he was about to ask this. “Scared of thunderstorms, Bokuto?”

“ _What!? Pfft no way! What would make you think that Akaashi? That’s ridiculous!”_

The overplayed incredulousness in his voice made everything clear. Somehow it didn’t much surprise Akaashi, seeing as though Bokuto always ended up making the figure skater have to do a double-take. Akaashi usually prided himself on the predictability of some, but Bokuto truly was the exception. “It’s okay if you are,”

There was a pause over the phone.

“ _Well I mean_ _maybe just a little... a teensy bit-”_ Another clap of thunder interrupted him. _“Don’t tell Kuroo_.”

Akaashi fought against the smile on his face for absolutely no reason at all. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“ _Thanks ‘Gaashi, I knew I could count on you._ ”

Akaashi hummed at the new nickname. “So why did you call? Was there something you needed?”

“ _Nope! I just couldn’t sleep, and I knew you’d be up.”_

“It's really late, how were you so sure about that?”

“ _Because you said you didn’t go to sleep until two.”_

“That was so long ago,” a disbelieving huff of laughter escaped him. “You remembered that?”

“ _Well yeah, I remember everything you tell me,_ ” Bokuto said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Akaashi was happy he wasn’t there to witness the warmth that had spread across his face. How could he say something so sincere and just brush it off!?

The figure skater cleared his throat, finding it hard to look away from someone that currently wasn’t there. 

“Well,” Akaashi winced at the crack in his voice. “It's okay, I guess I have time.”

Through the phone, he could hear Bokuto fiddling with something. Whatever it was fell to the floor with a disappointing thud, and neither chose to comment on it. “ _Oya? What were you doing before I called you?_ ”

“Oh it was nothing much,” Akaashi’s desk chair protested with a loud creak as he leaned back against the worn padding. “I was just trying to finish an essay.”

“ _Sounds like it wasn’t going too good, huh.”_

Akaashi only smiled as he pressed the phone closer to his ear. “Not at all.”

“ _Got something on your mind, ‘Gaashi?_ ”

His smile flattened into a thin line between his lips. _Yeah, funny you should mention it_ , _for some unknown reason I can’t finish a paragraph without thinking of you. And now I have to feign ignorance while you ask me because I’ll be damned if I tell you._

Akaashi hated the sharp prodding of the irony of it all in his gut.

“Yes but it's nothing to worry about.” Akaashi hoped the breezy tone in his voice would prompt Bokuto to change the subject. And he did, sort of.

“ _Haaah, but you shouldn’t overwork yourself. Your coach would be mad if he knew you were staying up this late._ ”

The figure skater fought against a displeased groan. Bokuto had been there for Coach Takeda’s lecture on self-care, and why it would be important for the upcoming competitions. Since then, nearly everyone who frequented the rink took it upon themselves to act as Takeda’s watchdogs, with Suga being the worst of them all. He ended up telling Yamaguchi about Akaashi’s new diet, and so the exhausted figure skater was in no way humored when the cafe worker replaced his usual coffee with tea. Akaashi wasn’t sure if he’d ever forgive Suga for that one. It had gotten so bad that even Oikawa had joined in, though it was mostly just him teasing and being a general nuisance. So nothing new there.

The past week had been filled with changes and shifting compromises in order to appease his worried coach. Akaashi sent a withering glare at where he was sure the water on his desk sat. It wasn’t ideal, but he could change parts of his diet if that’s what he needed- but his sleep schedule? There was no saving that one, Akaashi had long since tried.

“My coach won’t get mad,” Akaashi said with a light shrug.

“ _How’s that?_ ”

“Because unless you want Kuroo to find out an interesting fact about you and thunderstorms, you won’t be telling anyone anything.” Simple as that. Once again, Akaashi would rather break his leg than disappoint his coach. But that didn’t stop the teasing hint in his words.

“ _Agaaashi!"_ The low whine in Bokuto’s voice made Akaashi laugh involuntarily. At this point, the hockey captain made him forget why he had kept his voice down in the first place. 

He wasn’t sure how or why, but even with just that short time on the phone with him, Akaashi had forgotten all about his volume level, the tiredness behind his eyes, and most importantly the multiple assignments that had been pulled up on the computer. Looking at the blank monitor, he felt his chest grow warm as Bokuto continued rambling. He jumped from topic to topic, excitedly telling Akaashi about his day, the upcoming hockey match, the bird’s nest outside the window of his science class, and even the muffins that his friend Konoha brought in the other day. 

There was something about Bokuto, something unexplainable that Akaashi had yet to name over the course of the past few months, but the boy had always managed to put him at ease. He got him to block out anything stressful and force the figure skater to only focus on him. It certainly wasn’t unwelcome, if anything it proved to be helpful time and time again.

It was too late when Akaashi realized he had zoned out. Luckily Bokuto’s unrestrained groan had caught his attention.

“ _It’s getting hot in here_.”

Akaashi could only hum in lieu of a response. Bokuto wasn’t wrong, and he found himself missing the gentle thrum of the air conditioning. Especially when sweat began to gather at the back of his neck. It had just started to cool down outside, but the stuffiness of his room wasn’t doing much to convince him of this.

“ _I wish you were here ‘Gaashi._ ”

The mental image of the two of them, alone, in a dark room, made something in Akaashi’s gut squirm. He was suddenly bombarded by the cursed memory of Dream Bokuto’s lips on his, and the burning warmth of Real Life Bokuto’s hand on his cheek. Akaashi had to take a deep breath, internally slapping himself for the intrusive thoughts. They had no reason to be there, and they only fueled Akaashi’s endless irritation and confusion.

He had to clear his throat once more before responding, struggling to take on a calm and sarcastic tone once more. “Why? So you and I can sweat together?”

“ _No! Of course not!_ ” He wondered how the hockey captain was yet to wake anyone else up. “ _It’s just we haven’t been able to hang out in a while. I miss you._ ”

Intense heat bloomed on his face, and Akaashi didn’t need to see himself in order to know he was blushing. The sincerity of this boy would one day kill him, he was sure of it. “I guess I have been busy this past week. But it’s Saturday, we’ll see each other soon.”

“ _I guess…_ ” Akaashi could practically see the tips of Bokuto’s hair sag in tandem with the clear disappointment in his voice. “ _But that feels so far away!”_

“I don’t know what to tell you-”

“ _Let’s hang out tomorrow!_ ”

Akaashi had to blink a few times, it seemed as though Bokuto was quick to come up with a solution. _That, or, he already had one at the ready_. He hadn’t been able to respond before Bokuto was already rambling, nervousness tinged the edges of his words.

“ _Well I mean, you’re busy with the next competition, right? And I’ve got a game coming up, so we won’t have any free time. And I was thinking maybe if you’re free we could go out tomorrow._ ”

_Go out_? Sirens flashed in Akaashi’s mind without a proper reason. Suddenly his mouth felt a bit too dry.

“ _You totally don’t have to if you don’t want to! I just figured you’ve been overworking yourself a lot and a break might be nice, y’know?_ ” An unsure chuckle wavered through the speaker of Akaashi’s phone. “ _I could pick you up or something if you want?_ ”

“Oh, uhm…”

“ _It’s fine if you don’t want to! I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you don’t like! It’s just, I thought it’d be fun if we hung out, because we’re friends… and stuff… and friends do stuff sometimes I guess_ .” It was now Bokuto’s turn to clear his throat uncomfortably as he rambled on. It was then that Akaashi realized that they were more alike than he originally thought. The main difference being that when Bokuto overthought, it was _out loud_.

Akaashi realized that he needed to pull the hockey captain out of the frantic sentences that spewed out of his end of the line before the boy’s head exploded. It didn’t entirely make sense, Akaashi was supposed to be the nervous one here, so why was Bokuto the one tripping over his words?

“Bokuto,” he had to say his name a few times before the boy stopped his nonsensical reassurances. “It’s okay, I’d love to see you tomorrow.”

There was a pause over the phone. One that made Akaashi bite the inside of his cheek.

“ _Really?_ ”

Even in the stagnant darkness of his room, he could immediately picture Bokuto pulling out the brightest smile he had ever seen before. It would light up the entire space, splaying odd shadows across his ceiling and down his walls. His eyes would shine in the way that would make Akaashi question if the boy was crafted out of stardust because surely Bokuto would be glowing in the happiness that Akaashi could physically feel through one word alone.

A huff of laughter pushed itself out of his lungs, tight and incredibly airy at the same time. “Yes, of course.”

“ _Well okay!_ ” -Akaashi found himself once again holding the phone away from his ear as he was subjected to more excited shouting- “ _Alright, we gotta make the most out of the day so I’ll pick you up at eight- no! -you need to get some sleep so how about ten? Then we can go out and get breakfast at that place you like to go to and- wait! I should keep it a surprise!_ ”

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Bokuto could hear his chuckling or if his pause was just a coincidence. “I’m sure whatever you come up with will be great,”

“ _Hell yeah it’ll be! Just you wait, me and you are gonna have so much fun tomorrow- I promise!_ ”

He wasn’t sure what time it was, or how long they stayed on the phone, but Bokuto continued talking to Akaashi. Their conversation was mostly one-sided, but he found that he didn’t mind listening to Bokuto’s stories. They varied, just as they usually did, jumping sporadically from topic to topic, with small bits of jumbled input from the figure skater to spur the conversation onward. Bokuto had been in the middle of telling Akaashi a story involving Kuroo and firecrackers when he had stopped mid sentence, sheepishly apologizing. He admitted to his habit of talking a little too much, and how it often annoyed other people. To Akaashi, that couldn’t be any further from the truth. Anything that came out of Bokuto’s mouth was important to him. And when accompanied by the hockey player’s blinding personality (waving arms and all), everything that Bokuto had to say was interesting.

Akaashi found himself hanging onto each and every word.

It was almost odd how their dynamic worked. On their own, it would’ve proved difficult to maintain an interaction for the complete opposite reasons. Bokuto was reprimanded for being too talkative while Akaashi was avoided for not talking at all. Growing up, Akaashi’s silence pushed people away and made it difficult for him to keep up with an actual conversation. He rarely felt like he had anything valuable to contribute, and opted to listen instead of fighting to wedge in his own two cents. 

This meant that their interactions usually went by smoothly. Bokuto would take part in the brunt of the actual conversation, leaving Akaashi to sit on the other end and do what he did best: listen. He never minded Akaashi’s silence, instead finding it to be comforting like he was doing something right. Though to him, it was all the better when the figure skater spoke up.

It was for that reason alone that Bokuto didn’t question why Akaashi hadn’t responded for the past ten minutes. He wasn’t sure how long into the call they had been, but somewhere along the line, Akaashi’s eyelids had grown heavy, and Bokuto’s words became distant. He fought against the weight in his body, irritation flickering dully in his brain when he remembered that it was much more difficult to stay awake without his regular intake of coffee. He struggled to register Bokuto’s story of the first time he went to nationals, but exhaustion was quickly settling in his bones.

It was near impossible to push away the languid hold of sleep, especially with the pitch darkness of his room, the gentle pattering of rain against his window, the lethargic heat that clung to him, and most of all, the calming sound of Bokuto’s voice in his ear.

Akaashi never got to finish his report that night.

Not that he much minded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been working on yet another haikyuu fic (because as a high school senior *that's* what i need to be focusing on),, its a pirate au and there are so many ships (pun intended). its fun to write but its taking a lot out of me lmao
> 
> (this is my version of a shameless plug i'm sorry)


	17. Lilacs (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi sleeps in,  
> Bokuto has coffee,  
> The author has a breakdown.
> 
> Lilacs: First Love  
> Wow a Song: I Have Friends in Holy Spaces -Panic! At The Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all,, i am so sorry for disappearing for a few weeks, school has been a handful and the prospect of college has me wanting to do nothing but curl into fetal position while i cry.
> 
> also quick note before you start reading, these chapters will be a bit shorter while i'm in school, because i want to keep writing this fic but i don't have the time to keep the chapters at the length that they were getting to. so until i'm able to free up my schedule, the chapters will be around 3-2k for now :,)

_You remind me of a former love that I once knew_   
_And you carry a little speech with you_

_We were holding hands walking through the middle of the street  
It's fine with me, I'm just taking in the scenery_

_______________

Akaashi was cold when he woke up. The thin fabric of his t-shirt and shorts were no match for his room’s air conditioning system, and the cooled air bit unapologetically on his exposed thighs. 

The second thing he noticed was the dull ache along his spine, and it was rapidly worsening the more he became aware of it. He found that it was near-unbearable at the small of his back and at the base of his neck. When his eyes finally creaked open, Akaashi discovered that he had unwisely substituted his desk chair for his bed. His leg was hitched over the chair’s armrest while the other was hyperextended down to the floor. The other armrest was currently digging into his spine. On his lap was his phone, and the only thing that showed on his screen was his haggard reflection. 

He looked as much of a mess as he felt. 

Akaashi didn’t even have to try to turn the thing on to know that it was dead; the cold, lifeless weight in his hand was tell-tale enough.

His entire body protested as he struggled to stand up, and he soldiered through the tingling in his legs on his way to the phone charger across the room. A loud pop came from his right knee and he promptly ignored it, opting to stare dumbly at the light streaming from the gaps of his curtains. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it couldn’t have been that late, considering how uncomfortable his night had been. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Akaashi wondered when the power had come back on. He must have fallen asleep while waiting for it- his unfinished report still sat on the screen of his computer, glaring at him. Something kept him from feeling satisfied with that conclusion though, he couldn’t help but feel as though he were missing someth-

_Bokuto_.

With the most unhelpful timing the screen of his phone blinked tiredly to life, and showed the time to the fumbling figure skater. It was a quarter to eleven, and a steady stream of unanswered calls and text messages began to fill his notifications.

“ _Oh shit_.”

Something akin to dread sunk in his gut when the muffled sound of knocking came from the front door. 

It was a short sprint from his room, down the hall, and to the front of the house but every step he took cemented the guilt that was quickly building inside of him. Quick flashes of last night bounced around his skull- Bokuto’s loud guffaws ringing through the speaker of his phone and Akaashi’s sleepy smile. He nervously played with the hem of his shirt as he padded toward the door, he had slept in and forgot about their day out.

How unfortunate it was that Bokuto was an early riser by choice.

He wasn’t able to get the door open all the way before being assaulted by perhaps the loudest sound known to man.

“ _Hey hey hey_ , ‘Gaashi!”

Akaashi squinted against the morning sun that spilled past the broad silhouette in front of him. He wasn’t able to pick out many of Bokuto’s features, golden light filtered through the silver spikes of hair that stood proudly atop his head, and an oversized coat was settled around his shoulders, giving him a comically large figure.

His voice was still groggy when he spoke. “Good morning, Bokuto.” A hand flew up to rake through his out of control bedhead, Akaashi suddenly felt extremely underdressed. “I’m so sorry, I fell asleep and my phone died and-”

“No, it’s okay! I sort of figured that happened.” Even past the glowing edges of his darkened silhouette, Akaashi could see a shy grin. “That’s why I brought this.” He held up a takeout carrier, and Akaashi swore he could kiss Bokuto right then and there.

Two perfectly packaged cups of coffee were nestled in the cardboard holder, the logo of Yamaguchi’s cafe shined through the perspiration that was already beginning to gather on the drinks. Akaashi wasn’t sure if he was even breathing anymore as he took in the ethereal sight before him: Bokuto holding coffee.

The tightening in his chest was the only thing that yanked Akaashi out of his staring.

“Come in,” he breathed, fully swinging the front door open. “Please.”

Bokuto’s laughter followed him into the house, and he wasted no time in fishing the drink out to give to Akaashi. “Yamaguchi says hi, by the way.”

He could only give a pleased hum as he greedily took in the welcome rush of caffeine. “He was there this morning?” Akaashi asked, quick to wipe away the drop of coffee that had been making its way to his chin.

The hockey captain nodded eagerly. “Yup! So was his friend, he didn’t look too happy being there though.”

“Tsukishima?”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “Is that how you say his name?”

Akaashi fought against a smile. He could only imagine how that interaction went down. It likely involved a lot of glaring from the lanky blond. “Yeah. But it's supposed to be his day off, so it makes sense that he’d be upset about it.”

Tsukishima was never one to put in extra work, but if there was one thing that Akaashi had learned about him, it was that he’d do anything for Yamaguchi. So of course he’d be there with the freckled boy on his day off, no matter how much he’d complain about it.

“How were you saying his name?” Akaashi asked, looking up at Bokuto through tired eyes.

“Uh, I didn’t really hear it the first time so to me he was basically just Tskublblbuh.”

Coffee nearly poured out of Akaashi’s nose. Why was he even surprised at this point? “I’m sure he loved that.”

Bokuto’s hand came up to soothe any stray hairs on his head. “Not really.”

Akaashi watched the action closely. Was it a nervous habit of his? It seemed that it was often that Bokuto would mess with the spikes he set into his hair, and when he was especially excited or upset he would twist the ends into place as if to double-check that they were still there. The stiff material of his coat made it difficult for him to reach up to the top of his hair, but Bokuto made do. He looked to be dressed for considerably colder weather, perhaps he was planning on taking the two of them outside? He stood taller than usual in a set of what looked to be well-worn boots. The ends of his dark jeans hung cuffed just over the tops of the shoes, and tucked into the waistband was a patterned button-up. It was colorful, and if it weren’t mostly covered by his clunky jacket, Akaashi probably would’ve spent much longer trying to decipher the pattern.

Despite the coat, Bokuto looked dressed up, and as much as it pained Akaashi to say it, _good_. Bokuto looked good, and Akaashi- well… he glanced down at his oversized t-shirt, stained with various streaks of paint from past art projects, and the shorts that he was pretty sure were originally Oikawa’s. They were relatively small on him, to the point where the drawstrings hung further than the actual fabric of the shorts. How did they even end up in his possession? They were definitely Oikawa’s.

And Akaashi was definitely a mess.

The realization smacked him upside the head and he suddenly felt extremely underdressed- hell, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet. Akaashi had quite literally just woke up.

“Uhm,” Akaashi fiddled with the straw of his drink. “Would you mind waiting a little bit? I need to get ready…”

“I don’t mind, take as long as you need!”

He didn’t wait around for the boy’s blinding smile, it was much too early to have to withstand one full-force. Akaashi scampered up the stairs, barely giving the water of his shower time to heat up before throwing himself to the task of looking presentable. The embarrassment of earlier still hadn’t faded, and neither did his confusion. Why did it matter to him if Bokuto saw him like that -messy, half-asleep- it wasn’t as though he were trying to impress him. 

_Are you sure you aren’t?_

Akaashi narrowed his eyes as he wiped the steam off of the bathroom mirror, glaring at both the bags under his eyes and the voice in his head.

_Shut up._

Trying to find something to wear caused yet another mental spiral. 

There were two factors into this, he reasoned as he held up a shirt that he quickly discarded. Logically, it was a “day out”. But what the hell did that mean, exactly? Just two friends, going out and having fun. Like friends would. But, it was a “day out”, so… it could be said that they were going _out_. His chest tightened inexplicably at the simple rephrasing.

_Out like… on a date?_

“ _No_.” The ringing silence of his room followed the harsh sputtering of the word. He was overthinking this. He had to be.

_But… what about his shirt?_

_Ah_ , his brain caused Akaashi to helplessly rerun his hand down the hangers in his closet. Bokuto was wearing a button-up, albeit not a very formal one, but it was a button-up nonetheless. People don’t wear those on just any day, do they? Was there some unspoken fashion trend that Akaashi was unaware of? Should he text Oikawa and ask? Did he even save Oikawa’s number into his phone? Did he even have the time to worry about it? He tugged on the wet ends of his hair. _Why_ was he even worried about it!?

Akaashi groaned, running his hands down his face as the seconds ticked by in his head. Bokuto was waiting for him, and though he would never admit it, the hockey captain was immensely impatient and it was likely that he wouldn’t be sitting still for much longer. And here Akaashi was, hidden away in his _closet_ , having a mental breakdown over button-ups. Pathetic.

The end result wasn’t anything extraordinary: some sneakers, black pants, and a shirt. He sighed, Akaashi looked like a carbon copy of every other person his age, meanwhile Bokuto and his _freaking_ _button-up_ -

A harsh few raps at his door forced Akaashi to lift his head out of his hands. He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing in the doorway of his closet, but it was obviously too long, as he had exceeded the unspoken time limit that Bokuto’s waning patience had set. With a quick shout over his shoulder, Akaashi pointedly kept his back to the door as he sent a fluttering glance around his room in search of his wallet. Why was nothing going his way today?

“‘Gaashi!” The door slammed unabashedly against the wall, rattling the picture frames that scattered his room.

Akaashi leaned over to cuff the ends of his jeans, avoiding the eyes of the other boy who was currently bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Bokuto,”

“You played baseball.” The way the hockey captain’s voice heightened into an excited pitch had Akaashi keeping his head down. It was a statement that left him remembering the picture frames that hung clustered on a wall near the front door.

“I did.”

Well, saying that he _played_ was rather far-fetched. There were a few years in his childhood that he could hardly recall, a cursed stretch of months during third grade in which his mother had forced him to play tee-ball. It started with a concerned comment from his teacher and only progressed from there. When he was younger, he refused to talk to any of the other kids in his class, and his teacher was concerned as to how that would affect his development. His mother, ever the innovative thinker, decided that signing her son up for a sport would “break him out of his shell”. In a roundabout way, she was right, but only when Akaashi would stumble onto an ice rink later on.

Before that fateful day, young Akaashi Keiji would spend his afternoons bobbing around a field in the park, weighed down by both the oversized helmet and his coach’s preaching. Unsurprisingly his baseball debut didn’t last very long, seeing as though he never wanted to be there from the start. He never clicked with the other boys there, and would eventually end up right where he started- alone. It wasn’t much of a problem for him, and Akaashi never understood why everyone else took issue with it. His other teammates didn’t seem to care much for the quiet raven-haired boy who would opt to crouch down in the overgrown section of the field and watch the butterflies that flitted about. He didn’t mind being left to his own devices, and much preferred it over the roughhousing that the other boys took part in.

Unlike the herd of rambunctious eight-year-olds on the other end of the field, Akaashi sat silently in the disarray of weeds and untamed grass. It wasn’t preferable, not by a longshot, but he’d much rather be hidden among the greenery with his chin tucked shyly on his knees, watching the bright flashes of the butterflies that would grace over the tops of the plants. They couldn’t have been any bigger than a quarter, he figured. They looked so fragile, so weightless that he feared the slightest breeze could bring about their downfall. They reminded Akaashi of the dandelions that dotted his backyard, and their wings sported a vibrant yellow that could be seen from across the stretch of the baseball field.

To him, those small yellow things had become a source of odd comfort during those few months. They were silent and wavering, even more so breakable than the young boy that watched them from day to day. At the time, that yellow meant the quaint safety provided to him in the corner of the field.

And now, he found that not much had changed.

Akaashi wasn’t sure when he had turned around, but for what must have been the millionth time he found himself enraptured by the distinct warmth of Bokuto’s eyes. It was a sensation that brought with it the sour tinge of nostalgia that couldn’t feel any more foreign. To him, the yellow still signified an unspoken promise of safety, however, by now those frail butterfly wings had evolved into something more stable, more tangible than it had ever been.

He opened his mouth to say more, to perhaps tell Bokuto of his time on the team or maybe how his mother was the one behind it all, only to find that no words were able to escape his throat. Warmth had bubbled to a steady heat in his lungs, rising to fill up more of his chest before pooling between his collarbones. 

It didn’t take much to register the blush that undoubtedly had settled onto his cheeks.

However, it did take a bit more to notice the matching red on Bokuto’s own face.

Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Bo-”

“You looked really dorky with that helmet on, by the way.” 

Bokuto’s lips curling into something of a small smile was the last thing that Akaashi saw before his vision was clouded by the familiar color of the towel he had thrown over his desk chair earlier. His protests were drowned in the shaggy material, muffling his indigent squawks as Akaashi jerked back from the sudden assault. 

“Bokuto what the hell?” He asked, his hands blindly flying up in front of him only to be stopped by what seemed to be pure muscle. 

_Seriously, what-!?_

The weight of what was unmistakenly two hands plopped atop Akaashi’s head, and, to the figure skater’s horror began _kneading_. “It's cold out, you can’t go out there with wet hair, you’ll get sick!”

“I can do it myself though!” Akaashi found it difficult to talk as the towel dug into his scalp, thorough fingers picking their way through the wet knots in his hair. 

A few mocking tuts slipped through the towel covering Akaashis ears. “You were gonna forget.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His hands pulled weakly on the ends of the towel, Akaashi wasn’t sure what to do with them at this point. He found himself rendered immobile as Bokuto took it upon himself to drag the damned thing over his head until he was certain Akaashi’s hair was dry. 

For the life of him, Akaashi couldn’t figure Bokuto out.

“I’m not being ridiculous!” Bokuto pulled the extra fabric over Akaashi’s head until it showed the glowering face of the figure skater. He blinded the other boy with a grin and continued to pull the towel back and forth over his head, effectively drying and messing his hair up even further. “It really is cold out there.”

Akaashi squinted against the assaulting droplets of water that flew from the still-wet hair that curled over his forehead. “It’s September, how cold can it be?”

“Too cold. Cold enough to wear a jacket and dry your hair, at least.”

Narrowed eyes assessed the bulky coat the hockey captain wore. “Do you not like the cold, Bokuto?”

A stray silver hair slipped out of place as Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “Nope!”

“But… you play ice hockey?”

Akaashi ignored the huff from the other boy as he finally took the chance to pull the towel off his head, grimacing at the horrible state of his hair. So much for looking half-way decent. He should've known it was a lost cause the moment Bokuto Koutaro showed up at his doorstep in a button-up.

Bokuto decidedly didn’t want to waste any more time that morning, seeing how he didn’t give the figure skater the chance to blink before he was taking him by the hand and practically dragging him out of the house. Past the doorway to the kitchen, past a thoroughly confused cat, and past the wall in the living room, where a patchwork of photos stared back at them. A particular photograph caught his attention. 

The edges were wrinkled from the years seen from within a beat-up shoebox, but the subject remained unwavering. It was of a small boy, whose face was half-hidden by a greatly oversized tee-ball helmet. Only one of his sleepy eyes could be seen from under the rim, and they were just as dull and uninterested as they were now. His arms were looped in a loose and unsure hold of a bat, which looked to be about the size of him. He stood in the reddened clay of the infield, and Akaashi knew that in the background if he bothered to look close enough, he could see a hint of yellow from the butterflies that had flown there all those years ago.

Akaashi nearly stumbled over the rug by the front door. He felt like he was being dragged by an unruly dog on a leash. “Hold on I have to get my wallet!”

The hockey captain didn’t hesitate to barrel through the door, not even flinching against the unrestrained power of the sun that, in contrast, blinded Akaashi. “You won’t need it!” He practically jumped down the concrete steps that led to the house, and if it weren’t for the tight grip he had on Akaashi, the other boy surely would’ve fallen. “I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry ‘bout it!”

The two hurried to the car that was parked haphazardly by the curb, well, more accurately, one of them hurried, the other just tried not to trip over his own feet. 

“My league,” Bokuto mock-bowed, opening the passenger’s door for the hesitant boy in front of him.

“It’s _liege_ , Bokuto,” Akaashi said, sliding into the seat and still trying to pick the knots out of his hair with his fingers. The other boy hadn’t given him enough time to properly brush it. He could hardly hear Bokuto's little “ _oh_ ” as he closed the door for him.

Bokuto groaned as he jammed the key into the ignition. “You’re too smart for me, what am I gonna do?” He sent Akaashi a sideways look that made the figure skater’s heart do funny and _extremely uncalled_ _for_ things in his chest.

Akaashi had to look away, and suddenly the view outside the passenger’s seat window was exceedingly interesting. He wasn’t sure what was going on with him lately, but the feelings in his chest were becoming near-unbearable, and if he didn’t do something about them soon Akaashi might not survive the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so thank you all so much for your patience with me, i'm such a mess ahhhh


	18. Lilacs (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto is a good driver... until he's not,  
> Akaashi thinks Bokuto is pretty,  
> Mel B. has bad timing.
> 
> Lilacs: First Love  
> Wow a Song: I Have Friends in Holy Spaces -Panic! At The Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have this headcanon that Akaashi is the worst driver imaginable, like he's almost worse than Oikawa.

_I'm not complaining that it's raining, I'm just saying that I like it a lot_   
_More than you think, if the sun would come out and sing with me_

_You remind me of a few of my famous friends_   
_Well, that all depends what you qualify as friends_

_______________

“So…” Akaashi pulled on his pinky finger, pointedly keeping his gaze away from the driver’s seat. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Bokuto hardly gave him time to finish his sentence, excitement catching in his voice as he flicked on the blinker. “Nope! I told you it was a surprise, so just relax.” He must have caught the way Akaashi pulled a little harder on his fingers, because he then added: “Today’ll be great, I promise!”

Akaashi sighed, and promptly ignored the smile that threatened to show on his face. They had hardly made it a few blocks away from his house and somehow Bokuto had him feeling more comfortable than he had been in what felt like forever. The hockey captain was something of a sedative to him.

He watched the scenery pass behind the smudged window of the passenger’s seat. The familiar brickwork of the shops began to blur into a muddy red-grey that stained the rolling hills of the otherwise quaint shopping district. It was overcast outside, the sky a messy patchwork of darkened clouds. Shadows swept along the road, covering them with the fuzzy lines of shade cast overhead, only to be broken by the pure, unbridled light of the midday sun.

It was when they had emerged from under the cloud cover that Akaashi was subjected to the sunlight head-on, as well as his reflection in the window. It was a ghost of an image, capturing only his most prominent features. The bruised color of his eye bags stared back at him, supporting dark eyes that were framed by long, curled eyelashes. If he really squinted, he could see the careful stippling of blackheads on the end of his nose. Wisps of unbrushed hair against his forehead brought Akaashi’s attention to the rat’s nest that crowned his head.

Irritation flickered to life somewhere deep in his chest as he ran a hand through his hair, fastidious. He was a mess. He looked like he had just woken up.

Because he _had_ just woken up. But Bokuto…?

Akaashi subtly turned to the driver’s side of the car, his palm cradling his cheek as he took in the boy next to him.

His eyes were focused on the road, looking every bit the responsible driver that he had been preached about over the years. Bokuto’s hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel, and if Akaashi didn’t know any better, he’d say he was proctoring a driver’s exam. Silver eyebrows were twitching into a hyper-focused expression as Bokuto skirted through a four-way intersection. 

Akaashi traced his eyes along the straight ridge of Bokuto’s nose, following the path down to the slight curve of his upper lip. His jawline was sharp against his tanned skin, and it made Akaashi wonder if he was naturally like that, or if he did much more than just a morning jog on his days off. He had a very striking profile, Akaashi decided, and it loosely reminded him of the series of charcoal portraits he had been working on some time ago.

He distantly registered sound against his ears when Bokuto tilted his head to look at Akaashi. Attentive, dull eyes were instead drawn to the dip of his cupid’s bow instead of the words that came from those dark lips. They seemed to shine in the subdued light of the car, was Bokuto wearing chapstick? Akaashi’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before he could fully put a stop to it, his brain was still stuck on the way Bokuto’s mouth fit around the words he was saying. His mind was buffering on every syllable, and his pulse quickened when he caught the flash of teeth as those lips curled into a curious smile.

Akaashi swallowed. What the fuck had he just been doing? 

A burning red bloomed across his cheeks as his stream of consciousness arrived fashionably late to the party. If he had been listening- _properly_ -he would’ve heard Bokuto, but instead, he was forced into a corner, having to admit to the shame of staring at his friend’s lips in a sort-of-not-friendly way.

“Huh?” He asked, ever the articulate individual that Bokuto thought him to be. 

Akaashi wondered if the car was going fast enough to kill him upon impact if he threw himself out the door at that very moment.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you drove? It’s no big deal, I just see you walk everywhere.”

“I have my license.” He revealed. He had gotten it the very first moment he could, eager to get out of the house on his own volition. “But I just don’t drive very often.”

“Why?”

“I hate driving with tourists. It's frustrating.”

“Ohh,” Bokuto over-exaggerated an understanding nod. “I get that, sort of.”

Where Akaashi lived now was admittedly better than the old town he had come from all those years ago. The town had been dangerous, to the point where he couldn’t go out walking at night. It was one of the reasons he found himself doing it so often now, plus it certainly didn’t hurt that the scenery was pleasant. The tourists, however, were a different story. In-person, they were usually fine, but once you put them on the road, Akaashi wanted to pull his hair out. They were slow and prone to starting accidents, it had gotten to where Akaashi would rather walk the short distance than bother with the car.

The town was small, extremely so, however, it had been growing over the past few years, and the tourism certainly didn’t hurt those numbers. They were nestled comfortably near the base of a mountain range, and one of their biggest pulls in tourism came from the ski resort that sat perched above them, gazing out over the cluster of buildings he called home like some sort of monetary guardian angel. 

Coincidentally enough, the man who owned the resort just so happened to be Oikawa’s uncle, and Akaashi had met him multiple times. He was polite- albeit detached from reality- but he was a rather generous man who’d invited Oikawa and Akaashi up to the resort a few times, all for the small, small, price of watching Oikawa’s nephew.

Now _that_ was a completely different matter. 

When Akaashi inevitably told Bokuto of this, he seemed almost too confident in his ability to get along with kids. 

“All you have to do is play with him!” He said, a teasing smile making his eyes shine.

“There is no playing with that little monster.” Akaashi retorted, running an agitated hand through the knots in his hair. “He threw rocks at us, Bokuto! I’m pretty sure Oikawa still has the scar on his elbow.”

A disbelieving snort came from the driver’s seat. “Really?”

“Yes, but if you asked him, he’d lie about it, probably.”

“Either way, we should totally go to that resort. Don’t know about you, but I’m willing to babysit for a free stay.”

_We_?

“Why do you wanna go there?” The unspoken “ _with me_ ” rang throughout the small space of the car, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if Bokuto heard it.

“Because I’ve lived here my whole life and I’ve never gone skiing! Plus you’re fun to hang out with, so… why not?” The sudden sincerity that bled into his voice was enough to make Akaashi swat away at the red that burned his ears. 

Seriously, it just wasn’t fair what a few subtleties from this boy could do. A subdued smile here, and a gentle nudge there went all too far for Akaashi, and the fact that he was conscious of this and that it changed nothing was quickly becoming an issue for him. 

But, alas, he couldn’t help it when the boy before him was just so _pretty_. The word didn’t fit Bokuto perfectly, Akaashi wasn’t sure there were any that did. He was sure that somewhere deep in his tightening chest existed _a word_ that coincided with Akaashi’s mental image of Bokuto, he just hadn’t figured out exactly what it was yet.

Until then, pretty would suffice.

Oh, but whatever that word was, it was true. Akaashi found that his eyes had been drawn to his profile nearly the entire trip, continuously mapping the rigid slope down Bokuto’s _pretty_ face. It would usually start near his hairline, where a few silver strands had escaped the stiff hold of his hair gel and curled over, almost grazing his forehead if they were any longer. They were light and bounced airily along to the boy’s sporadic movements.

His gaze would then drift down the expanse of his forehead, past the exaggerated arch of his eyebrows, and slowing their descent on his nose. To put it bluntly, Bokuto had a big nose. And Akaashi was sure if he told that to the hockey captain’s face his expression might scrunch up in mock-offense, but loathe as he was to admit it, it was still _pretty_. It fit his face perfectly, Akaashi had had enough time scrutinizing minute details in his art classes to be able to tell when a feature looked particularly off. Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek- no, his nose came out a bit, the bridge was narrow and if he looked close enough, he could see a slight bump there. Had Bokuto broken his nose in the past? Thinking back to his mishap during the last hockey practice Akaashi had been to, it was more than likely. 

Akaashi ran a frustrated hand down his face. Just how long did he spend staring at this boy’s nose? Oh lord, what was wrong with him? Despite this, he just _couldn’t stop_. Bokuto’s features were a delicate mix of robust angles and sharp points, and oh boy was it making his chest feel funny. A frown had begun to pull on the corner of his brain as his eyes trailed back up toward Bokuto’s hair. It was a monstrous cluster of meticulously set spikes, and Akaashi wasn’t sure how Bokuto had the patience to style his hair like that every day, but he couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of respect for him. Hell, Akaashi hadn’t even been able to brush his hair that morning, of course, it wasn’t like it was by choice.

He’d surely slap himself for it later, but Akaashi left his brain unsupervised as he wondered just how stiff Bokuto’s hair really was. Was it soft? He doubted it, considering how much product he must use for his hair to be like that- but he couldn’t help the twitch in his fingers as he wondered what it felt like anyway. Akaashi's chest felt like it was on fire as he absentmindedly fiddled with his fingers. The ache under his ribs felt more intense than it usually was, beating in time with his heart in his ears as his thoughts stretched toward a maddening crescendo. 

Why was Bokuto always on his mind? 

Why did he skate for Bokuto during his program? 

Why did Bokuto look at him like that? 

Why did _he_ look at _Bokuto_ like that?

_Why_? 

_Why_? 

_Why_ -

“ **_YO, I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT,_ **

**_WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT-_ **”

Akaashi nearly launched himself out of the goddamn car when a song had started blaring through Bokuto’s speakers. Never before in his life had Akaashi Keiji been so simultaneously grateful and terrified of Mel B. He didn’t know where his mind had been going but thankfully he never reached his conclusion. That didn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest though, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if it was from the song or.. other things that had yet to be named.

His death grip on the sides of the seat didn’t let up. “Bokuto what the hell-”

The hockey captain didn’t take his eyes off the road, bobbing his head to the beat of the song that was set to a ridiculous volume. “You looked like you were thinking really hard.” He had to make an effort to shout over the Spice Girls. “I told you we’re gonna relax today!”

“You didn’t have to blow my eardrums out with the Spice Girls!”

“Do you know this song!?”

Akaashi had to roll his eyes. “Everyone and their mother knows this song!”

Well, that was a lie. By “mother” he meant Oikawa, who, of course, had his fair share of girl groups in his playlists.

“Sing with me ‘Gaashi!”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m gonna stop this car if you don’t sing with me.”

Wide eyes narrowed at the boy in the driver’s seat. “You. _Wouldn’t_.”

A sly grin spread across Bokuto’s face. “You wanna find out?”

“Bokuto no.”

“The foot’s coming off the gas~”

“Bokuto-”

“It’d be a shame if someone were to pull behind us, huh?”

They were currently slowing down on a long stretch of backroads. Sparse forests pushed against both sides of the asphalt, and it had been quite some time since they had last encountered another car. But just Akaashi’s luck, a huge truck had popped over the hill a mile or so away, the bright red paint gleaming off the ribbons of sunlight that peeked past the clouds. 

“Bokuto Koutaro if you don’t stop _right now_.”

“Oh? You want me to stop?” A teasing laugh slunk past his grin as Bokuto started pressing on the brake. “Is that what you want?”

“No! Why are you doing this?” This felt like a betrayal to Akaashi, it was something he’d come to expect from Oikawa, but definitely not Bokuto.

“Because you need to relax! Your face was getting all scrunched up!”

“Okay, I’ll relax! Now drive!”

“Nope.” 

“Why!?”

“You know what you need to do.”

“Bokuto, _please-_ ”

“Come on.” Bokuto had cocked his head toward the figure skater, his eyes bright and expectant. “You can do it, ‘Gaash.”

Akaashi sighed long and hard, just to make sure that Bokuto knew that he was driving him crazy. He sunk down into the leather seat, crossing his arms and carefully keeping his eyes away from the other boy.

_Just you wait until you get into my car. I’m gonna throw you out the window, goddammit._

He waited for Mel B’s solo until he dared to open his mouth, his voice begrudging and barely going above the volume of the song. “So here’s a story from ‘A’ to ‘Z’, you wanna get with me you gotta listen carefully-”

A surprised shout yanked itself from Akaashi as he was suddenly propelled forward. At least the result was instantaneous, they were going a solid seventy down the road now, far away from the oncoming truck.

“Hell yeah! Keep going!” Akaashi didn’t see Bokuto’s smile so much as hear it.

“This is ridiculous.” Stressed fingers ran through his hair. Again.

“I know! That’s what makes it so great!”

What started as a disapproving sigh turned into unrestrained laughter. Akaashi just couldn’t help it, everything about Bokuto _was_ ridiculous- from his hair to his playlists, even the small owl doodled on his sneakers.

He was absolutely ridiculous, a whirlwind of absurdity that was beginning to ruin every thought-out plan that Akaashi had painstakingly made.

But, that was what made him so great.

Together, they sang through at least a dozen more songs before reaching the end of their car ride. Akaashi had never felt so carefree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be a doozy,,  
> a Long doozy so buckle up kiddos there's gonna be around 8k of awkward gay coming up


	19. Lilacs (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto likes cherry pie,  
> Akaashi has a startling realization,  
> The author hopes that a thicc chapter will make up for nearly a month-long absence.
> 
> Lilacs: First Love  
> Wow a Song: Backyard Boy -Claire Rosinkranz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to try to reformat the notes, so that the flower meaning is near the top,, hope you all don't mind.
> 
> also wOw, there's songs now? uhh,,, yeah, i usually have a song in mind when i write a chapter, i figured it wouldn't hurt to throw them up there. it doesn't change anything, i just like it when there's a song recc in the fics i read so like,,,, i don't know.

_And I'm not gonna lie_   
_I get a little bit scared_   
_My heart is on wings_   
_I'm living in dreams_   
_And at the top of our lungs, we sing_

_______________

Akaashi found himself learning more and more about Bokuto every day. 

For starters, he was a surprisingly _good_ driver. At the very least, he was much better than Akaashi. He was careful to go the speed limit, no matter how painstakingly slow it may feel as they trudged down a backroad with no one around. He even came to a full stop… _all the time_. Akaashi, on the other hand, was banned from driving when Suga was in the car. Apparently, it wasn’t very good driver’s etiquette to zone out behind the wheel. He’d never understood why Suga would make such a big deal about it- they both survived the ride with minimal scarring.

He also wasn’t sure why Bokuto being an upstanding driver was such a surprise for him, but he always thought of the boy as the type to take the speed limit as a suggestion. Just like Akaashi did.

One thing he did expect, though, was the mess. True to nearly every teenage boy’s car, the inside was a wreck. A quick glance at the backseat revealed a small pile of take-out bags and empty drinks. It also resulted in a quietly flustered Bokuto, claiming “ _I haven’t gotten around to throwing it all away… but at least the front’s clean, right?_ ”. 

But even that in itself was a stretch. Dirt and… glitter( _?_ ) lined the floorboard by Akaashi’s feet, and random shirts were shoved in any and all crevices. He had gotten the sneaking suspicion that none of them were clean, but he’d be damned if he tested his hypothesis. A comb sat inconspicuously in the cupholder, and next to it was a bottle of what looked to be cologne. Admittedly it took Akaashi a moment, but he realized that the not-so-subtle undertones of what he originally thought were dryer sheets did a lackluster job of covering up the smell of the food in the back. 

It must’ve doubled as Bokuto’s go-to choice for cologne because Akaashi swore that was the very same smell that assaulted him every time the hockey captain pulled him in for a hug. It was almost flowery, but he definitely wouldn’t describe it as sweet. He decided that _clean_ would be the best word for it.

Bokuto also had a deep appreciation for ABBA. It didn’t take much sleuthing to figure that one out, seeing as though he was subjected to at least five of their songs from Bokuto’s playlist. 

“Don’t freak out,” Bokuto said, drawing Akaashi’s attention away from the scenery out the window. “But I think I’m lost.”

He bit back a sigh and turned the volume to the radio down. Brittany Spears had been playing. “If you just gave me the address I could figure it out for you.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Bokuto I know you wanted it to be a surprise but we’ll never get anywhere if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“No, no. It’s not that,” He eased the car into a stop at a red light. “I don’t know the address.”

“Okay…” Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek. He should’ve expected this, really. “Well can I get a name, at least?”

The ends of Bokuto’s hair seemed to droop a little as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I forgot it.”

“Uhm-”

“Kuroo and I were talking about it, and he brought up this bakery in the next town over and it sounded like something you’d like and I forgot the name.” He took the opportunity to groan into the wheel, his forehead pressing up against the horn.

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction ( _occasionally_ ) brought it back. “Talking about, _what_ , exactly?”

Yellow eyes blinked, damningly innocent. “You and me hanging out today.”

Akaashi's brain momentarily buffered. Bokuto had told Kuroo about today- about him and Akaashi. About them. He blinked, there was no _them_. But still, Bokuto had gone to Kuroo for… advice, maybe? The familiar tick of annoyance at the back of his head told Akaashi that he was definitely overthinking things, but he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this time it was justified.

It wasn’t.

Nonetheless, Akaashi willed himself to remain composed, forcing his expression into a flimsy mold of reliable neutrality. It was just the way he liked it: unreadable, impenetrable, dependable- a far cry from the boy sitting next to him.

He supposed Bokuto had always been like that, so sincere and so inexplicably open, that it left Akaashi reeling. He had known Bokuto for a few months now, and there wasn’t a time that the boy wasn’t painstakingly genuine. It made something sit heavily in Akaashi’s gut like he himself was hiding something. What, he wasn’t sure, and with every passing second, Akaashi felt as though he were getting closer and closer to uncovering what it was. But at this point, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

With that, Akaashi was sure to keep a calm facade as he pried minute details from the floundering hockey captain. It took much, much longer than expected, but eventually, Bokuto’s car was pulling into the parking lot of a modest little pastry shop that sat at the very end of a strip mall. It must’ve been there before the rest of the complex was built, because the small building stood out like a sore thumb. Its walls were of slatted wood that was painted an off-white color, and it surely saw years of rather unfavorable weather. Small pink flowers were nestled against the front wall of the building, and their cheery pastel color matched the awning that hung tiredly over the door. 

It was a hole-in-the-wall establishment if Akaashi had ever seen one, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Kuroo of all people knew about it.

Despite its initial appearance, the shop looked warm, and welcoming, if anything. It gave Akaashi the general vibe of an old friend that would never judge him. Which was good because this lanky teenage boy with tote-sized eyebags was about to buy this puny shop’s entire stock.

The pair hadn’t even reached the front door of the building yet, and Akaashi was being hit full force with the ever-so-enticing aroma of fresh-baked bread and vanilla. The asphalt of the parking lot felt warm through the thin soles of his sneakers as they crossed the space. The weather was dreary, but oh, just the smell alone coming from the little bakery was good enough to counterbalance Akaashi’s mood.

The customary ringing of a bell signaled their entrance, and immediately upon his arrival, Akaashi’s mouth began to water an embarrassing amount.

“Takeda’s going to be really mad at me for this one,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone. And it was true. As much as the figure skater had been downing waters left and right as an unsatisfactory substitute for coffee, his diet still hadn’t improved much, and today would be no help to that.

“Your coach will be fine, I promise,” Bokuto said with a smirk that made Akaashi squint. It definitely came from Kuroo, it was almost uncanny.

“Does he know we’re here?”

“Nope! And that’s why he’ll be fine with it. Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?”

He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face like an invasive species. He couldn’t help it, there was something about Bokuto that made the nonsense racing in Akaashi’s brain slow down just a bit- just enough for him to catch his breath. It was an odd, nonsensical calm that he found he didn’t want to lose.

“Do you have any idea what you want?”

The pastry shop reminded him of Yamaguchi’s cafe, in a way. It was small, however, the interior was designed in such a way that made it seem bigger than the outside of the building. A counter lined the back wall boasting an array of fresh baked goods, they sat cozied up next to one another behind ornate glass casings. A chalkboard menu was bolstered to the wall, and written in curly script was all that they had to offer which, given the modesty of the place, was surprisingly big.

“I’m not sure honestly, it all sounds so good.” Akaashi loosely tugged at a stray clump of hair that had curled over his ear. His eyes made another sweep over the board, dragging over the words but not fully taking them in.

Bokuto hummed, his arm finding its usual perch over the other boy’s shoulder. “Kuroo said their scones were pretty good.” He waited a minute before muttering: “ _Whatever a scone is_ …”

Okay, so that helped to narrow it down. He’d never let himself thank Kuroo of all people, but it did take some weight off of Akaashi’s chest. His attention shifted to the sectioned off corner of the menu, scanning what was available. 

If he was being honest with himself, Akaashi knew he was taking too long. The risk was low, it was just a pastry after all, but he couldn’t help it. He had a tendency to overanalyze, even when it was only inconvenient to him and the others around him. His brain just had to nitpick at every detail, every possibility as if putting it under a microscope. With so many opportunities presented to him at every turn, it was important that he chose the right one.

Even if it was just a scone.

Akaashi tilted his head to the side as he came to a decision. “I think I know what I- what?”

Bokuto _really_ needed to stop doing that- the staring thing. It always made Akaashi’s mind start to melt into a puddle of television static. In fact, if he didn’t catch Bokuto doing it so often he likely would’ve been more upset than he was now. Perhaps he just had a tendency to zone out, but there was something about the way that prying yellow traced over his features, it never came off as the expression of someone who was just _looking_. 

A ghost of a smile was always traced over his lips, and his eyes were always lidded, attempting to hide the yellow that shined with warmth under curled eyelashes. When he was like this, Bokuto looked… relaxed but, at the same time rather acute. His eyes never stayed still, always flowing along the invisible path that started at his hairline and sloped past his cheekbone, settling on his ear. It was as if he were looking for everything and nothing all at once, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if he could take it much longer because the way that Bokuto’s eyes were searing through him felt similar to a punch in the gut.

“Hm?” Bokuto cocked his head.

Akaashi internally sighed, it was the same thing every time. The other boy would catch him, and Bokuto would, for lack of a better word, play dumb. _Excruciatingly_ dumb if he were being honest with himself. But Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to confront Bokuto about it, after all, it wasn’t like he didn’t just do the very same thing in the car not thirty minutes ago.

His face must’ve betrayed him, though, because Bokuto choked up a half-baked excuse that was only successful in making Akaashi fret over something else. So consider it a job well-done on Bokuto’s part.

“It’s nothing,” the hockey captain drowned Akaashi in yet another easy smile. “Your hair’s just a mess.”

He finished off the statement by bringing a hand up and ruffling Akaashi’s curls, making its disorderly state even worse. It wasn’t fair that the figure skater was too busy trying to flatten his hair back to notice the usual red that had spread across his face.

Bokuto seemed to have a general idea as to what he wanted to do that day, and with his encouragement, Akaashi opted to just relax and “go with the flow” as the hockey captain had smartly said. Which was easier said than done, but he figured he could do this for Bokuto at the very least.

After ordering, the pair carried their bags with them as they walked down the street. Bokuto was leading them down a faded sidewalk that lay parallel to the shore of a lake that sat in the center of town. It was a large part of their tourism, being so vast that it was treated nearly the same as a coastal town. People would come to swim there, and boats dotted the horizon, lazily putting along. Occasionally he would spot a figure walking the beach, and the only sign that anyone had been there was a rather lonely set of footprints in the sand before being washed away.

There wasn’t much traffic there, Akaashi noticed, and it seemed as though many opted to just walk. He couldn’t fault them for it, a constant breeze gently mussed his hair, and when paired with the overcast sky, there wasn’t much he could complain about. The shore of the lake lay to his left, and only a small road was in his way before he reached the sand. To his right sat a cozy line of shops, their walls painted a muddled rainbow of pastel colors. The occasional tree would interrupt the humble shopping center. They stood tall, their roots sprawling unapologetically under the sidewalk and creating a spiderweb of cracks where they walked.

It was never silent between the two of them, Bokuto made sure of it. He told Akaashi stories of when he and Kuroo would go to the small town as kids. And after a while, he suspected that Bokuto was trying to get him to laugh. He was wildly successful, mind you, especially after he recounted the time that he and Kuroo got banned from an antique store down the road. Akaashi found that every time he ended up throwing his head back in laughter, Bokuto would look at him in a way that made his stomach churn. It was a look that was too warm, too attentive, too fond for Akaashi to feel like he deserved it. 

After a while, they stumbled upon a small seating area a few blocks over from where they had initially parked. The space was cut into a cluster of shops, to the point where the buildings wrapped around the field on three sides, leaving an open view of the lake’s choppy waters. In the center of the space sat a few picnic tables, heavily worn from years of use. 

“It’s going to rain soon,” Akaashi hummed as he leaned his back against the table. The wood dug into his spine, and it was far from comfortable, but Bokuto had made a spot next to him and Akaashi found that despite the discomfort, he didn’t want to move anytime soon.

“ _Whaat_?” A whine came from the hockey captain beside him. “Don’t say that, ‘Gaashi, then it’ll actually happen!”

“I don’t control the weather, Bokuto.” Despite his serious tone, a smile edged its way onto his features. He blamed it on the smell of the pastry in front of him.

“Wish you could,” Bokuto mumbled. “Maybe if you just try hard enough…”

Akaashi lifted an amused eyebrow at the boy next to him. “You don’t like this kind of weather?”

“Of course not! It's cold dreary and- did I use dreary right?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Nice! But anyway, this weather is just depressing. Today’s supposed to be fun, I had it all planned out too. It’d suck if it rained.” The tips of Bokuto’s hair began to droop, and the figure skater watched with mild interest. Would he ever know how he did that?

“And what were those plans?” Akaashi asked, carefully peeling back the paper wrapping to reveal an apple-cinnamon scone and- _oh god_ , it was perfect.

“Nice try,” Bokuto clucked, haphazardly digging his hand into his own bag to pull out the small pie he had ordered. “It's still a surprise.”

Akaashi would've frowned if he didn’t have a mouth full of scone at the moment. He was never one for surprises, and he had been subtly trying to get Bokuto to spill all day. But apparently, he wasn’t being as subtle as he thought.

“When did you start skating?”

“Way to change the subject.”

“I’m serious!” Bokuto flailed his arms, and Akaashi just barely missed a cherry that spilled from his pie. “I feel like I don’t know enough about you, even though you’re really cool. And I know it’s my fault because all I ever do is talk about myself and people think it's annoying-”

“It’s not annoying,”

“I- huh?” Bokuto’s head swiveled to face the boy next to him, and Akaashi was sure he was suffering from whiplash because of it. However he didn’t give, instead keeping his gaze on the water in front of him and using the cold to excuse the red on his cheeks.

“It’s not annoying,” _Seriously_ , Akaashi huffed to himself, _was this news to Bokuto_? “I like it when you talk to me. Everything you say is interesting.”

With his scone long gone, the figure skater was left to pull nervously on his fingers. He had never been too good at sincerity like this. His words always felt too stiff and his tongue felt weird in his mouth. How could Akaashi possibly tell Bokuto what he meant to him? How could he string together the perfect sentence to tell Bokuto how much he had helped him those past few months. Surely there were too many words to say, and not enough fortitude to say them. But oh, Akaashi promised himself that maybe someday he’ll find the right things to say, even if it took him years, Bokuto needed to know how important he was.

“ _Agaashi_!”

Akaashi wasn’t given the time to comprehend what was happening before he was shoved into a clumsy side-hug. The thick material of Bokuto’’s coat was pressing into his face, slowly suffocating him, but all Akaashi could register was the familiar smell of floral dryer sheets.

“Do you mean it, ‘Gaashi?” Bokuto asked, his voice was muffled in the figure skater’s ears.

“Yes.” Akaashi closed his eyes, he was by no means comfortable, but Bokuto didn’t seem set on letting him go anytime soon, and who was he to deny him of that? He didn’t realize how cold it had gotten until he found himself caught in Bokuto’s (rather unconventional) embrace. The hockey captain’s body heat seeped out of his coat, protecting only Akaashi’s right side from the harsh conditions of the coastal town’s autumn temperatures. Beneath the thick layering of Bokuto’s coat, the other boy swore he could hear his heartbeat. It rang in Akaashi’s ear, a soft but rapid succession of knocks against Bokuto’s ribcage.

“You never answered my question, though.” 

The hockey captain’s voice sounded a million miles away, but Akaashi found himself opening his mouth to respond.

“You never answered mine.”

“I told you, it's a surprise!”

Akaashi frowned. “That’s not the answer I want.”

“C’mon ‘Gaashi, _please_.”

“Fine,” A dull pang accompanied a deep breath. “I started skating when I was eight.”

“Why did you do it?”

Akaashi shifted his head to look at Bokuto, it was all for naught, he ended up in a headlock of sorts. The other boy didn’t seem to notice. “What is this? An interview?”

When he didn’t get a response, Akaashi pried himself out from under Bokuto’s arm and found him looking out onto the water. He met Akaashi’s eyes with an almost _shy_ smile. “I just want to get to know you better, I guess.”

Akaashi’s eyebrows twitched, and he physically restrained himself from letting the confusion show on his face. Bokuto Koutaro would either act like an overeager teenager or a forty-year-old man, there was no in-between. But lucky for Bokuto, he was willing to indulge the hockey captain for however long he wanted, so long as he got to look at him for just a bit longer.

And so he told him everything. He told him of the time he ditched baseball practice to go cool off in the ice rink down the street. How the owner decided to let him skate because it was a slow day, and how he turned out to be a retired coach and had so much fun teaching him the basics until his mother showed up. How Akaashi’s mother was beyond livid when she came to pick her son up from baseball to find that he had gone missing. How Akaashi was the happiest he had been in years when she bought him his first pair of ice skates, and how upset he was when he learned that he had to move away from everything familiar.

He told Bokuto of his first time stumbling into Sugawara’s ice rink, and how he met him and Takeda for the first time. How impressed Takeda was with Akaashi’s skill, and how determined Oikawa had been to outdo him. How Takeda had been _so proud_ of Akaashi when he won his first competition as his student. And how Akaashi had been proud of himself, as well, for finally finding something he felt he could call his own.

Words spilled from Akaashi’s mouth, they were never hurried or awkward as he recounted the years to the boy next to him. He wasn’t sure how long they had sat there, but there was never a moment that Bokuto looked bored with him. He’d occasionally give a solemn nod whenever Akaashi recalled the times he had been at his lowest, or laugh at the antics of a younger Oikawa, but he’d encourage him to continue, his eyes glued to the shore of the lake before them.

And he was grateful for it- for Bokuto, and his willingness to listen. It was something he didn’t know he needed.

“Well, you know,” Boukto said, rolling his shoulders back and giving him a smile that was nothing short of earnest. “I would’ve been your friend if we knew each other back then.”

An identical smile found itself on Akaashi’s face. “Thank you Bokuto, I would’ve been your friend as well.”

“But I definitely would’ve made fun of that baseball helmet.”

Akaashi tilted his head, leveling his gaze with Bokuto’s. “Like you aren’t doing that right now?”

“It made you look like a _bobblehead_ , ‘Gaashi!” The hockey captain barked, laughter infecting his words with a playful tone. “I don’t know how you didn’t fall over wearing that thing.”

“I’m sure there’ve been a few close calls.” he mused, letting his eyes catch on the yellow that stared back at him. The sound of the water nearby had turned into television static, and the only things Akaashi could take in was the boy in front of him and the smell of flowers coming from a nearby floral shop. Lavender and Bokuto- it was a good combination.

“It looked kinda cute on you, though,” Bokuto muttered, and if they hadn’t been so close together, Akaashi wouldn’t have heard him.

He ignored the blush that coated Bokuto’s face in order to keep whatever shreds of sanity that he still had.

Akaashi cleared his throat. “You’re really bad at being mean, Bokuto.”

The hockey captain blinked, his smile growing wider. “Is that such a bad thing?”

_No, not at all._

Akaashi’s heart beat loudly in his ears, the dull ache in his chest keeping in time with it. He opened his mouth and found the words caught in his throat. What was with him? Whenever he was around Bokuto, it was like his brain completely shut down, leaving Akaashi to flounder. And when had Bokuto gotten so close? It felt as though they were only a handful of inches away from one another, and something pulled at the back of Akaashi’s brain. Some sort of familiarity, some sort of-

_Plip!_

Something clicked in Akaashi’s brain. Better late than never. “It's raining.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and he wanted to slap himself upon hearing the crack in his voice.

Bokuto stopped his movements- _so he was getting closer_ -to look up at the sky. “Is it?” -was all he was able to say before a fat raindrop landed in his eye. A shout of surprise ripped itself from the boy as he jerked back and almost fell from his seat.

It was the only warning the two were given before the heavens opened before them, unceremoniously dumping them with torrents of rain and leaving them to scramble for cover. Next to him, Bokuto groaned loudly, not bothering to move as the rain drenched him, flattening his hair and beating uselessly against his coat. 

“Bokuto, get up.” He nearly slipped on the concrete in his effort to stand, streams of water were pushing past his shoes and spilling into the mud below. The intensity of the rain had caused their surroundings to become painted in a hazy grey, and if it weren’t for the light coming from the shops around them, Akaashi wouldn’t have known where to go.

“‘Gaashi it's raining!” The hockey captain wailed. 

“So I’ve noticed.” He had to shout over the downpour.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain!”

Bokuto didn’t look like he was planning on moving anytime soon, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if he was up to taking care of him if he got sick. So without much thought, he grabbed hold of Bokuto’s wrist and pulled him under the awning of the shops nearby. The taller boy trudged behind him, almost tripping on the incline of the sidewalk.

It was odd, seeing Bokuto without his hair up. The silver strands were plastered to his forehead, and the black of his roots just barely peeked out from underneath it. With his hair down, he looked slightly shorter, and less like a character from a kids’ book. He looked more realistic, more subdued, and almost approachable.

Even the somber lighting from under the awning could not dampen the brilliant color of Bokuto’s eyes, and when the other boy looked at Akaashi he had to suppress the urge to look away. It was almost too much for him. And it would’ve been if Akaashi hadn’t noticed the watery frustration that twisted his expression.

“Bokuto, are you okay?”

“No!” He ran a free hand through his hair, pushing away the drops of water that threatened to fall in his face. “The rain ruined everything! I had plans for us today and now I don’t know what to do.”

_Well, at least he doesn’t dance around the issue..._

“It’ll be alright, I can figure something out.”

“But today you were supposed to relax and have fun. And now you probably feel like I dragged you out here for no reason when you could be doing school work and- y’know, stuff that actually matters.” 

“This _does_ matter to me, Bokuto.” he said, his voice even despite the pounding in his chest. “If it didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I like spending time with you.”

There were many things that Akaashi was learning about him today, or perhaps it was something that he had known all along. Bokuto was a considerate person. He knew when to back off on a subject, he never intentionally made anyone uncomfortable, and he didn’t want Akaashi to feel like he was wasting his time. Even though Bokuto was obviously upset about today’s turn of events, Akaashi found himself smiling softly. He really appreciated Bokuto.

“Standing around waiting for the rain to pass can’t be very fun though.” Bokuto’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down 

A spark of amusement followed the revelation that he looked like a kid getting scolded.

“We don’t have to just stand here, we can go look in the shops. We don’t have to buy anything, just pass the time.”

It was something he and Oikawa often did. Since neither of them had very much money, the two sometimes found themselves going window shopping. Their small town was one sign short of a tourist trap, so why not go and enjoy all that it had to offer anyway? 

“That doesn’t sound very exciting,” Bokuto said, his bottom lip threatening to form a pout.

“With the right person, everything’s exciting,” Akaashi responded, the smile falling off of his face when he realized that he still had his hand wrapped around Bokuto’s wrist. When he attempted to pull away, uttering a quiet apology the other boy made a quick grab at his departing fingers. Bokuto said nothing, meanwhile, Akaashi’s brain was sputtering smoke as he was led further down the sidewalk.

“Okay ‘Gaashi, let’s go,”

He didn’t notice the smile in Bokuto’s voice as they walked through the door of the closest store.

The shops that were squeezed into the humble plaza were all similar in the sense of homeliness. They were small, complete with warm lighting and a sleepy atmosphere, it was something that Akaashi could easily relax into. Most of them sold homemade goods and crafts, the most noteworthy of them being a jeweler who was dead set into getting Bokuto to buy something for his “special someone” who was apparently Akaashi, who stood next to him, entirely flustered at the accusation.

He was almost regretting the idea of window shopping until they came across a tiny flower store, nestled in the center of the plaza, and wedged between a tackle shop and an art gallery. If there was one word to describe the space, it was _overgrown_. Lively foliage had overtaken the place like an explosion in green, and lush vines had crept up the walls in a silent invasion. Despite this, they were well taken care of and colorful blooms filled the space from top to bottom.

The two had taken their time, recalling stories in which the flowers had reminded them of, most of them seemed to revolve around childhood memories. For such a small shop, they offered a decently large selection, it looked to be made up of the summer’s last harvest: zinnias, gloxinia, chrysanthemums -

“What about this one, ‘Gaashi?” Bokuto asked, playfulness etched into his expression as he thumbed the petals of a particularly big marigold.

Akaashi hummed as he summoned the distant information. Years ago, he had been tasked with piecing together a series of paintings centered around flower language. Upon hearing this, Bokuto started pointing to any and all plants he could get his hands on, excitedly asking the figure skater what they meant. 

“I think that one represents grief.” Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows, eying the bright yellow and red splotches of the flowers’ petals and remembering all-too-well the very same colored paint staining his hands.

Bokuto snatched his hands away as if the supposed grief would bleed onto him. “But it looks so happy.”

He could only offer a shrug in response. “I guess it just depends on how you look at them.”

Yellow met purple as Bokuto pointed an accusatory finger towards a large bundle of lavender flowers grouped in the corner of the store. “How about those! They’re happy, right? Please tell me they are!”

Akaashi would never know how someone as excitable as Bokuto would be so invested in flowers. But in a way, it was endearing, seeing a burly teenager whose entire being practically screamed ‘ _future sports scholarship_ ’ becoming so devoted to a few mere flowers.

“What do you think it means?” Akaashi retorted, running a hand through his drying hair and watching the hockey captain lean in close to smell the tiny purple flowers.

“Uhm,” Bokuto rubbed the plant’s leaves and smelled the oil left on the pads of his fingers. “It smells nice, and you’d want to give someone that you like stuff that smells good, like roses. So maybe, it’s an ‘ _I love you_ ‘ flower?”

Akaashi's throat tightened at the three innocent words that came from Bokuto’s mouth and left him wanting to slap the red off his cheeks.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat and allowed himself a quick glance across the shop, eyes flitting over the quietly amused employee. “No, I’m pretty sure-”

“No, no! Don’t tell me they mean something sad too!”

“They don’t, not really.”

“I was so sure I had that one…”

Akaashi suppressed a small huff of laughter. “If it makes you feel better, your reasoning was pretty solid.”

“I don’t care what anyone says, these are definitely ‘ _I love you_ ’ flowers.” -the red on Akaashi’s cheeks intensified, Bokuto _really_ shouldn't throw those words around so carelessly- “You said so yourself, it depends on how you look at them, right?”

“I mean, yes.” At that, Akaashi had stopped being surprised when Bokuto pulled things like this. He was sure the hockey captain only did it to be right in the end, it was a kind of stubbornness that he was sure had left many exasperated. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be anything other than intrigued. It was nearly poetic, creating one’s own meaning for something as arbitrary as a flower, and perhaps it would’ve been if it were anyone else but Bokuto, because the boy was nothing if not straightforward.

He was still mulling the idea over in his head even as the two of them started walking back to Bokuto’s car.

It had gotten dark out, the sun’s warm late-day coloring being pushed aside for a healthy dose of purples and blues. Tiny pinpricks of light began to spatter the sky in a desperate grab for attention. Birds made the delayed trip back to their nests, and they could be heard overhead, along with the occasional soft pattering of bats that neither of them could see. 

It had gotten colder as well, with the constant push of cool air coming off of the lake, it caused goosebumps to ride waves up his arms as they walked. He should've brought a jacket, he knew this, but he wasn’t willing to admit such things to Bokuto, the same person who chided him for it earlier that day. So instead he discreetly tucked his arms into a relaxed position, while shielding parts of his chest from the cold.

“I’m sorry today didn’t turn out as you planned,” Akaashi said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Soft laughter came from Akaashi’s side, and the hockey captain made yet another futile attempt to spike up the silver strands. Quiet irony reminded Akaashi that he was the one who started the day off with messy hair, thanks to the rain they were now on even ground. _Not quite_ , his brain supplied. Despite having lost a brutal, one-sided boxing match with Mother Nature, Bokuto still made his thoughts jumbled until they became incoherent. 

Akaashi wasn’t sure which he preferred more, the hockey captain with his hair styled up or down, but the recent change definitely wasn’t bad by any means. It was almost unfair how someone could look so… _presentable_ after going through what felt like a hurricane.

“It's okay,” Bokuto responded by bumping his shoulder lightly with Akaashi’s. “I still had fun with you.”

The brief contact left Akaashi’s shoulder burning, even as the cold hacked away at his defenses. His mouth felt dry and it left him looking down at his shoes, the fabric was still uncomfortable and wet, but he was at a loss as to what to do with them for the time being.

A quiet settled between the two of them once more, and Akaashi’s brain was working overtime in order to figure out what to say. His neurons would surely demand a raise after a day like today, and they seemed to go on strike at that moment, leaving him with no helpful thoughts whatsoever.

_Say something, you idiot!_

“That’s good.” He mumbled, more to himself than anything. Looking past the occasional, ahem, _questionable_ moments of red cheeks and fidgeting fingers, Akaashi truly had enjoyed today. It had been a while since he was able to put time aside to go out and spend time with someone other than the passing conversations between him and whatever unfortunate soul that happened to wander into the rink during the early hours of the morning. Perhaps he hadn’t fully relaxed, there was stress of course, but it was a stress that he found himself tying to Bokuto’s presence, and he didn’t exactly dislike it. It was definitely an acquired taste, though.

“Are you cold?”

Akaashi’s eyes trailed back up toward his friend. “Huh?”

He could practically hear Oikawa teasing him, ‘ _A man of wise words only need say a few, right ‘Kaashi_?’

“You’re shivering.”

“Oh,” He didn’t have to glance down at his arms to see proof of Bokuto’s assessment, but he did anyway. “I guess I am.”

The sound of fabric rustling caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see the other boy slip out of his coat. Bokuto held the heavy material out to the figure skater, almost eagerly. “Here.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t-” The words quickly piled in his throat, all the excuses, the apologies, everything fighting to be vocal while his mouth decided to have technical difficulties for what must've been the hundredth time that night. “The car, it's only a few minutes away, I’ll be fine.”

“‘Gaashi, just take it.”

“It’s okay I-”

Bokuto didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence before plopping the oversized coat around the figure skater’s shoulders.

His face was red because of the cold. His face was red because of the cold. His face was red because. Of. The. _Cold_.

And certainly _not_ because of the newfound warmth that weighted down on his arms. Or the faint, familiar smell of cologne that was likely rubbing off onto his shirt. Or the way a tight smile pulled at Bokuto’s pink cheeks.

_This is fine_.

Except it _wasn’t_. And Akaashi didn’t know why. Lead weighed down on his chest, and his heart ached horribly. It felt as though he had just drowned himself in pure caffeine, and he could practically feel the frantic heat bubbling beneath his skin. He could no longer keep his fingers curled securely under his biceps, and began pulling at them nervously.

“Thanks.” The word left Akaashi’s mouth rushed and almost slurred, but he wasn’t sure if Bokuto noticed at all. He hoped not.

“You’re-” Bokuto quickly cleared his throat, running a hand down his face. “You’re welcome.”

Akaashi noticed the way the boy refused to look in his general direction and began to shrug off the coat. “Are you cold?” He asked embarrassment laced his voice. He didn’t want to be selfish, for God's sake. “Here, you can have it back-”

“No that’s not it!” The hockey captain frantically waved his hands around, and Akaashi would’ve laughed at Bokuto’s flustered reaction if he hadn’t been acting the same way. “You’re okay, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Akaashi’s voice wavered as he gave a robotic nod, his body going on autopilot as he slipped his arms through the coat’s sleeves.

Tense silence had wedged itself between the two boys like a nosy third wheel- except _no_ , there was no _third wheel_ , because there were no _two wheels,_ to begin with. Akaashi silently agreed with himself on this one. There were no wheels- no wheels and no bike. No relationship to be had. He was definitely overthinking this, but the distinct lack of speaking didn’t help him clear this up whatsoever.

Perhaps it was better that way, the two of them seemed to embarrass themselves at every possible moment. With silence, there were no attempts and thus no risks.

With no words to be said, his ears honed in on the repetitive slap of his sneakers against the sidewalk. The languid push and pull of the water echoed behind them as they veered away from the lake, and toward the parking lot. There weren’t enough streetlights to properly light their path, but Akaashi sincerely doubted anyone would bother them with Bokuto there. Without the bulk of his coat, it left no question that the boy beside him was strong, to say the least. The muscles of his arms strained against the sleeve of his shirt, and after being covered up for the entire day, Akaashi found that he almost missed them. 

Not that he’d ever admit it. He’d rather shoot himself in the foot. The thing was, as a figure skater, a lean figure was ideal in order to maintain a steady grace across the ice. They opted for flexibility and endurance over raw muscle.

_Keep telling yourself that._

He tucked his chin into his ( _not_ ) coat, averting his gaze from the offending arm that repeatedly (and accidentally) kept knocking into him.

Akaashi huffed. _Shut up._

As mortifying as the entire exchange had been, Akaashi was definitely no longer cold. The coat must’ve been waterproof, he noted when he realized that the cozy lining was dry, save for the collar, where the downpour had probably seeped into. When he first slipped into it, the first thing Akaashi noticed was the utter warmth and the fact that it wasn’t _his_ warmth. It was Bokuto’s and the thought of it left Akaashi’s cheeks back to their default state of red. It was almost comforting if he was able to peel back the layers of hesitant embarrassment, which he was unable to do.

He almost let out a cry of relief when Bokuto’s car came into view, especially when the hockey captain pressed a button on the keys, and the headlights flared to life before them. He was nearly home safe, and everything would go back to normal when they saw each other again on Tuesday. Everything would be okay.

Akaashi didn’t think much when he shoved his hands in the pockets of the coat, he could only ignore his numb fingertips for long. He didn’t expect his hand to bump against something, though. He rubbed his finger along it, finding the object to be smooth, and in the shape of a washer, its size a little bigger than a silver dollar.

When curiosity got the better of him, Akaashi pulled it out of the safe confines of the coat pocket. They were standing in front of Bokuto’s car by then, bathed in the overwhelming glare from the headlights, but that didn’t stop him from pausing for just a moment to peer down at the object in his hand. A black cord had been tied to the donut-shaped rock, dangling uselessly as Akaashi held the cold object closer to his face.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Bokuto said quietly next to him.

“Is everything okay?” Akaashi asked, his head swiveling to meet the wide-eyed gaze of the hockey captain.

“Oh, uh- yeah.” The exaggerated movements of his hands said otherwise but Akaashi didn’t comment. “I almost forgot about that, uhm, if I could just…” He gestured toward the necklace in Akaashi’s hands and the figure skater didn’t need to be told twice to hand it over to him.

He pressed the rock tightly between flattened palms as he struggled to pull up the words to say. Evidently, earlier events still hadn’t fully left the two of them.

“It's for you.” The words tumbled out of Bokuto, awkward, and hurried.

“Oh!” Akaashi blinked in surprise. “Bokuto you really didn’t have to-”

“No, I-” what must've been nervous laughter bubbled out of Bokuto’s mouth. “When you were competing, I saw that a lot of the other figure skaters had these necklaces, and when I asked Suga about it, he said they were like good-luck charms.” His free hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. “I thought I’d get you one since I won’t be able to make it to the rest of your competitions. Sorry... it's kind of lame, isn’t it?”

“Bokuto, no I-” Akaashi let out a breathless laugh, stepping forward to cup his hands under the one that held the necklace. Bokuto’s hands were as warm as his coat as Akaashi’s fingers slid across them. “I love it. Really, thank you.”

“You do?” The boy brightened exponentially at his words.

Akaashi’s smile wasn’t unlike Bokuto’s own, if anything it was a bit shyer. “Yes.”

“Then would you mind if I, uh…” Bokuto made fumbling up-and-down motions with his hands, his words obviously escaping him.

“No, not at all,” Akaashi said, needlessly ducking a bit as Bokuto slipped the necklace over his head. The slight weight of the rock pulled against the cord, settling just below the dip of his collarbones. He pointedly the tingling that Bokuto’s knuckles left when they accidentally brushed against his nape.

There was a moment of quiet, but it had lost the tension it had previously held, and Akaashi was more than grateful for it.

“It's supposed to be some sort of lapis? I think? The lady said it’ll give you confidence, and I uh- I thought that maybe it would help you before a competition.” Bokuto’s nerves hadn’t completely settled, as evident by the excessive hand gestures. “I know you get really stressed, and stuff.”

‘ _And stuff_ ’ was the understatement of the year, but that didn’t stop Akaashi from smiling like an idiot. No one had ever done this for him, and his fingers rubbed across the stone’s smoothed surface, even during the car ride back- it was quickly becoming a habit.

Yes, he had learned a considerable amount about Bokuto that day. And there was not a second that he wished he stayed home. Akaashi wanted to curse his past self for wanting to shut himself off from the hockey captain. Bokuto was quickly becoming a person that Akaashi couldn’t see himself living day to day without.

He tilted his head as he watched the boy next to him sing along to Billy Joel’s _Uptown Girl_. He was oblivious to Akaashi’s gaze as he bobbed his head exaggeratedly to the lyrics, looking uncannily similar to an overexcited bird. It caused the makings of a smile to pull at the ends of his lips.

The car was dark, but the occasional light from the passing street lamp was all Akaashi needed as he marked a familiar path down Bokuto’s face. He was such an otherworldly person, and if Akaashi didn’t know any better he’d say he made up Bokuto’s existence entirely. There was no way that someone could be so sincere, so kind, so considerate, so talented, so _warm_.

Warm. Bokuto was warm. Akaashi realized this as he sank deeper into the borrowed coat, breathing in the faded scent of cologne that was painstakingly familiar. To his eyes, the way he spoke, his hands - _everything_. Everything about this boy carried with it a comforting warmth that he may not have recognized at first, but now that he had, he never wanted to let it go. 

Because loathe as he was to admit it, Akaashi was selfish.

But wasn’t that just a part of being human? To grab hold of something one desperately wants -no- _needs_ and wanting to hold it close. Was it selfish if that thing just so happened to be another person? Akaashi was beginning to find that he needed Bokuto close by, he _needed_ the warmth of his hands as the hockey captain laced his fingers through his. He _needed_ that deep laugh that followed whenever Akaashi said something mildly amusing. He _needed_ the soft yellow that watched him as he skated, picking him apart in the most careful way possible. He _needed_ the weighted comfort that came when he found himself pulled into the Bokuto’s embrace.

His breath came out unsteady as his chest throbbed with that oh-so-familiar weight. What was this?

Bokuto glanced at the boy next to him as he slowed the car to a stop at a light. Red glowed on the side of his face in a soft hue as yellow met blue for the umpteenth time. A smile that could only be described as _warm_ pushed up the edges of Bokuto’s eyes.

A quiet voice hummed in the back of Akaashi’s head as the next song started on the radio.

_You need him_.

He tightened his hold on the necklace that had gone warm from his own hands. His heartbeat had grown painfully loud, and a part of him feared Bokuto would hear it.

_I do._

One single smile left Akaashi’s throat tightening to the point where he couldn’t breathe. Was this-?

_You like him._

_I do._

“Sing with me ‘Gaashi!”

Akaashi blinked, sobering realization quickly settling in the pit of his stomach like a stone.

_Well, shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we did it. we're seventy thousand words in, nineteen chapters, and we finally got akaashi to realize that he's a bit oblivious. now comes the fun part. if you thought he overanalyzed things before,, ohHOHO just wait and see, babe ;)
> 
> this boy is going to give himself an ulcer.


	20. Geraniums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi thinks... a lot.
> 
> Geraniums: stupidity and foolishness  
> Wow a Song: Buttercup -Jack Staurber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just straight up akaashi overthinking but in a gay way.
> 
> the chapter is a little short but,, no worries! i (unwillingly) have a lot of time on my hands for the next two weeks so with any luck I'll be writing a bit more :,)

_Fine, electrify mine  
Electrify my golden tooth_

_Can't look at those eyes_   
_Without sparking some_

_Electrify my heart_

_______________

A few years ago Akaashi found himself stuffed in the back row of a psychology class. It was mildly interesting, considering he was there purely due to a scheduling error. Nevertheless, he took the course, acing it as just another name on the roster and another faceless student with his head down. 

One of the first things the teacher had gone over was the infamous experiment pertaining to Pavlov’s dogs. It had been a rather easy concept, perfectly showcasing the behavioral link between a stimulus and a response. It went like this: Pavlov would introduce the dogs to an unconditioned stimulus (in that case food) and would, in turn, receive an unconditioned response (salivation). Upon seeing the connection, he added another stimulus to the mix, coming in the form of the ringing of a bell. At first, of course, there wasn’t an immediate reaction, however, he put his time into conditioning the added stimulus of the bell to produce the same reaction as that of the food.

The result was of a newly conditioned stimulus and response. The bell would stimulate salivation as the dogs anticipated food. 

And the more he thought about it, the more Akaashi felt like he was one of Pavlov’s dogs.

It had been nearly a week since he and Bokuto had gone on their impromptu… _outing_ (Not A Date), and even though it was supposed to help Akaashi relax, it ultimately resulted in the opposite. It had been nearly a week and Akaashi Keiji had been stuck in a permanent mental spiral. It came purely in the form of a single boy, one with inhumanly yellow eyes, a boisterous laugh, and warm hands. The boy whose jacket was currently sitting on the back of Akaashi’s desk chair. The boy who Akaashi had been inadvertently avoiding all week, which was really the worst time for it because his first game of the season was tomorrow.

It was a rather repetitive cycle that he found himself sinking into after their Not Date. It’d usually start with their time at the flower shop, where the two of them pointed out the meanings of different flowers. It was rather childish, looking back on it, but he couldn’t help but think about it as he wrote his report on the symbolism of flora used in the book his class had been reading. It was a convenient excuse.

From there, his mind would wander, flicking idly through the events of the rest of the night as if they had been dutifully recorded on the pages of a book. He had ended up wedging a bookmark at certain parts, opting to reread a specific page or line when the day proved to be slow. By now, Akaashi could recite certain phrases, much to his own mortification. 

Something he would often find himself looking over again had been the car ride back. Akaashi had been quiet on his end, his brain rapidly backpedaling and attempting to right itself after a certain… revelation, all while Bokuto filled the silence with his playlist. As much as he hated to admit it, Akaashi’s eyes kept wandering back to the boy next to him. The inquisitive dull blue would pick apart Bokuto to a near painful degree, zeroing in on the dimple on his cheek and the haphazard mess of silver spikes that sat atop his head because there was _no way in hell he liked him like that_.

But oh, when those gold eyes found his, Akaashi’s chest tightened in its usual fashion and his face warmed, and that conniving little voice in the back of his head would drown in television static. All that would be left was a small smile and fiddling fingers.

Which was what brought him to the conclusion that Akaashi was, in fact, Pavlov’s dog. 

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but somewhere along the way, Akaashi must’ve been introduced to some sort of conditioned stimulus. It could’ve been multiple things. Akaashi had a soft spot for coffee and sweets, and of course, upon finding this out Bokuto made sure to bring the figure skater one of the two every time he saw him. So could it be plausible that Bokuto bought Akaashi with food?

Dear God, maybe he _was_ a dog.

Well, he supposed it was better than a case of Stockholm syndrome.

Akaashi let out a sharp exhale, the warmth of his breath a delightful contrast to the chill of the rink. A thin layer of perspiration had settled on the exposed skin of his arms, and an angry red flush had bloomed over his cheeks and highlighted the tip of his nose. The muscles in his legs throbbed dully in warning, and his feet ached, but it had been the best he felt in days as the familiar euphoria of a workout flooded his veins.

When the pounding of his heart subsided, all he was met with was the ringing silence of an empty building. It felt odd, to be alone on the ice again, but Akaashi couldn’t help the backward sense of comfort that came with it either. In the stillness of the rink, there were no social expectations, no prying eyes, and best of all no Bokuto.

He sniffled as he retreated to the edge of the rink, where a box of tissues and a warm drink sat patiently for him. It was the lesser-known side of figure skating: the snot. Not exactly Akaashi’s favorite part of being on the ice, but as a natural reaction to the cold, it wasn’t something he could stop.

Akaashi sagged against the guard rail, his ungloved hand still clutching the thermos as his fingers greedily siphoned the heat it offered. Did he feel guilty for avoiding Bokuto? Yes. But avoidance was the only rational solution his brain coughed out later that night. When faced with the boy the next day, Akaashi had lost complete control over his motor functions- it had been a disaster. He had taken to picking apart every little thing he did while in his presence, opting to shove his restless hands in the pockets of his jacket lest he pull his fingers off in all his nervousness. His words felt awkward in his mouth, and it certainly didn’t help that his brain had taken to buffering when Bokuto started talking to him. 

At this rate, the damn thing was no better than the old desktop computers in the library. They were both slow, dysfunctional, and riddled with viruses. Only, the virus in Akaashi’s brain could be simply denoted as a rather unfortunate case of gay panic.

“No,” His voice was raspy and tired as his thoughts looped back around in the same maddening circle that it had formed nearly a week ago.

This, whatever “ _this_ ” was, couldn’t have been anything gay. Akaashi was too busy to humor himself with whatever it could’ve been. His next competition was right around the corner, and he had too many issues in his technical skate to be comfortable with. Not to mention the piles of schoolwork weighing him down daily. And it would only get worse from there.

All this excluded the elephant in the room: _why Bokuto_?

_Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?_ Akaashi huffed, his feet beginning to slide away from the railing while his arms held steadfast.

Bokuto Koutaro was the exact type of person he would go out of his way to avoid, usually. His presence filled a room, and at times felt suffocating. He was loud, and his arrival was always accompanied by an explosive ‘ _hey hey hey!_ ’ that never failed to jar the figure skater’s eardrums. Furthermore, he had a knack for forgetting details- Akaashi always had to remind him of the due dates for his _own_ assignments.

Well, that wasn’t the complete truth. Bokuto only paid attention to things that were important to him. The boy never forgot when hockey practice was, or when his favorite shows aired, or how much his order was at Yamaguchi’s cafe…. or Akaashi’s order, or Akaashi’s practice schedule, or Akaashi’s free period, or Akaashi’s-

_That doesn’t mean anything!_

Right. Akaashi knew things about his friends too, but that didn’t mean anything unusual- it just meant he had spent time around them.

Bokuto only focused on things that interested him. It was why he excelled at hockey and struggled at math. Akaashi had to tutor him enough times to know the fact. Bokuto with a calculator and Bokuto with a hockey stick was virtually two different people. In the case of the latter, his eyes would shine an intense gold, and a resolute smile would pull on his cheeks. Akaashi had been privy to that expression too many times to count, especially when he caught Bokuto watching him skate. The way his bright eyes would pierce through his form-

_No._

That didn’t mean he was interested. Figure skating was probably just something new to Bokuto, it was likely that the hockey captain was more curious than anything.

His brain scrambled to get back on track- Bokuto was an overwhelming person by nature. By now, Akaashi had at least fifty synonyms for _loud_ listed under his definition of the boy. He lived his life on a whim, and any plans Bokuto made were either from the night before or not followed whatsoever. In that sense, it was exhausting being with him. What’s more, Akaashi was beginning to doubt that the hockey player knew what volume control was- he was always shouting and yelling and laughing and ‘ _hey hey hey_ ’-ing.

Well, no, Akaashi hated to backtrack but Bokuto wasn’t _always_ like that. There were times -however infrequent- when he was quiet, _thoughtful_ even. Bokuto was thoughtful. The weeks he spent rewrapping Akaashi’s sprained wrist could attest to the fact. Not to mention the time Akaashi broke down during his private practice, Bokuto had been there, and it had been like a switch was flipped. His voice was soft, he was comforting and not to mention warm-

Akaashi’s cheeks reddened considerably at the memory.

He never allowed himself to fully look back on it, but what had occurred after Akaashi was finished crying like a damsel in distress in the other boy’s arms, he still didn’t have a solid explanation for. The way Bokuto had cupped his cheek and looked down at him- the look in his eyes had been something Oikawa would undoubtedly label as “ _heart eyes_ ” if he had seen it. Thankfully he didn’t, and it left the entire thing up to interpretation. 

But still...

Looking back on it, if Akaashi had a nickel for every time he thought Bokuto was going to kiss him, he’d have _two nickels_. Sure, it wasn’t enough to buy anything, but it was still weird that it happened more than once.

That being said, Akaashi had no actual evidence proving that Bokuto even liked boys. He wasn’t stupid, he was able to read context clues just like anyone else, but he still couldn’t assume someone’s sexuality. Sure, there were certain things Bokuto did or said that may look… _questionable_ under the rainbow-tinted lens of homosexuality, but that didn’t mean he was gay.

But how Akaashi wished he was.

His hesitant attraction for the hockey captain was a bit unconventional when compared to Akaashi’s past exploits (which, admittedly, there weren’t very many). Bokuto was no doubt attractive, with more muscle than the average teenage athlete paired with a height to boast about, but that _hair_. Akaashi didn’t know how much he was missing until the rain had forcibly washed away the towering spikes of silver.

Akaashi was never one to tell people how they should present themselves… but whoever told Bokuto to style his hair that way deserved the death penalty ( _it was probably Kuroo_ ).

His brain flicked through the pages of their Not Date once more, a metaphorical finger tracing the lines of the mental image of Bokuto with his hair down. It had dried in the car on their way back home, and it looked undeniably soft. It left his fingers twitching, aching to find out for himself just how different the hockey captain’s hair was without the use of excessive product. 

How would Bokuto look with his hair casually down? That night, the water weighed the strands, giving the boy choppy bangs that looked to be the result of an attack of kitchen scissors. An inquiring frown pulled on the corner of Akaashi’s mouth, it looked messy that night, but what about when it hung naturally? He’d imagine Bokuto would look a lot… softer. Or at the very least, more like a teenage boy and not a bird.

That night, he had looked softer. And when added to the warmth in his eyes and the fond smile that was directed at the figure skater- _oh_ , someone call a cardiologist because Akaashi’s heart might have just skipped a beat or two.

The deafening ‘clang’ of the metal thermos falling to the ground was the only sound Akaashi registered as his feet slid out from underneath him. His grip had loosened on the railing, resulting in his chin hitting the metal as he fell. Adrenaline fading, Akaashi found himself on his stomach, the wet chill of the ice making quick work of the fabric of his tank top. His chin throbbed as he turned onto his back, the glare of the overhead lights leaving circular impressions when he closed his eyes. 

_Did you really just fall thinking about his hair!?_

Akaashi clapped his hands over his eyes, letting out a tired groan for all in the empty building to hear.

_Yes._

Dare he say Akaashi had just fallen for him. 

Literally or metaphorically, he wasn’t quite sure yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things start to pick up from here so uh,,,,, prepare for some drama, kiddos.


	21. White Violets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto has a hockey game,  
> Akaashi doesn't know what's happening,  
> Oikawa isn't having a good day.
> 
> White Violets: Let's take a chance on happiness  
> Wow A Song: Smaller -Christian Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: ah yes i'll be writing more :)  
> everyone, two weeks later: so that was a fucking lie.
> 
> *i cannot stress just how much i appreciate everyone's patience with me, you're all such wonderful people and i love you all to pieces omg*
> 
> also, i'm sorry if everything is moving painstakingly slow, i honestly didn't realize i had turned this into a slow burn until we were 50k in and all they had done was platonically hold hands. but fear not, things will (maybe???) start to pick up after akaashi's next competition,, mainly just because I'm practically foaming at the mouth to write angst, so sorry in advance.  
> (please note that around that general time the warnings for this fic will come to light because frankly, teenagers do have a rather unfortunate habit of doing things they shouldn't)

_Sorry for not knowing this is smaller than it seems_   
_Just everything that I have ever dreamed_   
_But to you, it's not exciting, and my face is not inviting_   
_Oh please, why would you fall in love with me?_

**_______________**

Perhaps Past Akaashi had the right idea.

To keep his head down, to keep his mouth shut, and to keep to himself. Past Akaashi’s plans admittedly involved a lot of keeping, but so what? He was selfish, he’d established this already. And that was looking to be a good thing because it would’ve saved Current Akaashi a lot more trouble if he had initially acted on that selfishness that had been spurred by his own annoyingly persistent self-preservation. 

If he had, Akaashi would’ve been at home that day, hunched over his desk and dutifully completing his assignments like the model student he so desperately liked to make himself out to be.

If he had, Akaashi would’ve still been in his usual shorts and T-shirt combo, complete with varying stains from paint and food.

If he had, he definitely wouldn’t have had to deal with _this_.

“‘Kaashi I swear- if you don’t pick up the pace I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Like you aren’t already?”

Dull blue eyes narrowed in on Oikawa’s irritated expression. Impatience pushed down on the edges of his mouth, and the corners of his eyes had started to twitch. A pimple was forming just above Oikawa’s right brow, and Akaashi considered telling him, just to piss him off.

“You wanna bet?” If Akaashi didn’t know any better, he’d say Oikawa was sizing him up.

A pale hand came up to gently pull back on Oikawa’s shoulder, and Suga magically appeared behind the glowering figure skater. He must’ve gotten Akaashi’s text. “ _Okaay_ , guys,” he said, voice firm and silently pleading. “Why don’t we head inside now?”

Oikawa sighed, grumbling something along the lines of “ _okay Mr. Refreshing..._ ” under his breath like a curse before turning back to the main entrance of the rink, leaving his two unwilling companions on the faded steps. There was something off about him, Akaashi noticed. 

It seemed their resident smart-ass had a chip on his shoulder today. Akaashi watched as Oikawa slipped into the building, taking note of his hair’s unusual state of disarray, the rich brown stuck up at odd angles, and it looked as though he hadn’t even touched it that morning. To make matters worse, his outfit looked… bland compared to what Oikawa usually pulled when he knew he was going to be in a crowd.

“Something’s bothering him,” Akaashi grit his teeth, it was going to be a long day.

Suga cocked his head to the side, similar to the way a dog would when they heard an odd noise. “You think so?”

“He didn’t do his hair this morning.”

“Oh…”

The other boy hummed, it seemed he, too, was hesitant to go after a fuming Oikawa so early in the day. Soft eyes caught on Akaashi’s tired form, and Suga brought a hand up to the wild black strands near his neck.

“Well you might want to do something about your hair too.” the boy clucked. “Unless the mullet’s intentional?”

Akaashi grimaced, lightly batting away at Suga’s hand. “It's not, I promise.”

“Too busy to get a haircut, then?”

He kept his gaze at his feet as he followed the other boy up the steps. “You could say that.”

Akaashi liked to consider himself a seasoned procrastinator, he put off the tedious things such as haircuts, the occasional English essay, and any and all interaction with a certain hockey captain. Of course, the problem with procrastination was when the issue at hand worsened, case and point: his alleged mullet… that and the nagging guilt he felt of avoiding Bokuto all week, but that was a whole different hornets' nest of feelings to deal with, and not to pull that card, but Akaashi hadn’t even had his coffee yet.

A shit excuse, yes, but the only one he had.

The two entered the foyer and Akaashi couldn’t help but pull absently at his fingers as he felt strangely out of place in such a familiar setting. He couldn’t remember the last time he had come to the rink without the intention to practice. It felt odd to walk through space without the usual weight of his bag on his shoulder, and it left him unsure of what to do with his hands.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it before, but with the hockey team’s old rink out of commission, of course, they’d have no choice but to host at least one game at Suga’s, because of their limited options. There were only so many ice rinks in the area, after all.

The other team had long since made themselves at home, and now with double the amount of intimidating muscular highschoolers treading the space of the rink, Akaashi fought against the urge to follow Suga behind the counter. There, he wouldn’t be forced to interact with anyone, at most he’d have to entertain Suga’s understandable confusion. But at the very least he wouldn’t have to subject himself to torture via Bokuto.

_Speaking of which…_

Where was Bokuto? Akaashi found himself missing the distinct tension headache that came from the hockey captain’s presence, and a quick visual sweep of the area resulted only in quiet befuddlement.

“The team’s in the locker room,” Suga said, leaning over the counter to speak beside a distracted Akaashi. “The coach is giving them a speech, I think.”

Akaashi blinked, reminding himself that while telepathy may be a fictional concept, Sugawara Koushi was really causing him to reevaluate that. He had been long used to being teased about his lack of expression, and seeming helplessly closed off from others, but Suga had managed to worm his way into Akaashi’s mannerisms and could read him like a book.

It was fucking terrifying.

“Did something happen between you and Bokuto?” 

_Exhibit A._ He had to physically restrain himself from running an anxious hand through his hair.

“Didn’t you ask that before?” Akaashi asked instead, pressing his lips into a thin line. ‘ _Divert the attention_ ’, he was pretty sure he remembered reading about it in an anti-bullying pamphlet sometime during middle school.

Suga hummed, resting his chin in his palm. “Yeah but… lately it's like something changed between you guys.”

“That so?”

“Not to mention you’re avoiding him for some reason.”

Akaashi felt like he had been punched in the gut, but he’d be damned if he let Suga see how shaken those few words had made him. “Well, I’ve been busy with school,”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Suga kept his voice low, but something akin to exasperation infected his words. “I’m here all the time. You think I don’t notice how you leave early on the days the hockey team comes over to practice?”

He turned to look behind him, back at the counter, and the gray-haired boy who stood behind it with an incredulous expression on his face. Suga looked to be biting his tongue like he so desperately wanted to chide Akaashi for acting like a child, but interestingly enough, he shot a glance toward the bleachers, where Oikawa sat with one leg perched over his knee and chin nestled into his crossed arms. His eyebrows rose up to his hairline as he directed a venomous glare at Suga.

Akaashi could recognize the unspoken “ _shut up_ ” that the figure skater was shooting across the building, and he would’ve questioned if the silent threat was for him, but Suga beat him to it, noticeably sobering up as the corner of his mouth twitched into a ghost of a frown. 

“Look,” he said, his focus redirecting itself back to Akaashi. “You don’t have to make excuses, but just know that I’m not the only one who noticed what you’ve been doing.”

The boy’s words still echoed in Akaashi’s head nearly ten minutes later, even as he sat squished between him and Oikawa on the top row of the small set of bleachers the rink offered. He was quickly realizing that it was the worst possible place to be, and was beginning to envy Kenma’s spot next to an overexcited Hinata. The redhead couldn’t seem to sit still, wiggling in his seat every other moment as he strained to get a better look at the hockey players that dotted the ice during their warm-up.

Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek as a new thought sprung upon him. “Why haven’t I seen the hockey teams around before?”

The tension between the three boys began to waver when Suga looked up from his phone to give him a teasing glance. “It’s because they usually hold their games at the rink the next town over-”

“-and you never go anywhere.” Oikawa took it upon himself to finish the sentence.

As much as he wanted to refute the statement, he knew he couldn’t, which only made it sting just the slightest bit more than it usually would. To his right, Oikawa huffed for what must’ve been the tenth time since they sat down. Akaashi could almost feel the hook that dug in his ear every time Oikawa sighed, but he refused to give in to the boy’s fishing for attention. 

Oikawa huffed again and just as Akaashi was ready to send a glare his way, the brunette opened his mouth with a weak sneer. “Why did they have to come to our rink anyway?”

Akaashi blinked back his surprise, where did that resentment come from all of a sudden? Unlike him, Oikawa never seemed bothered with the hockey team and their constant interruption during the figure skaters’ practices. If anything, he flourished under the extra eyes watching him with shy fascination. Akaashi shared an equally confused look with Suga and waited for the latter to respond.

“Their old rink is undergoing some… repairs.”

Akaashi remembered Kuroo’s words from when they first met. “Didn’t it catch on fire?”

Oikawa looked scandalized and Suga… was quiet, incriminatingly so.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Akaashi gave a weak nod. “I’m pretty sure Kuroo and Bokuto said something about a fire. It burned through the ceiling.”

“How the _hell_ did that happen?”

The raven shrugged, directing his focus onto Suga with narrow, assessing eyes. “How _did_ that happen? They never told me.”

It took Suga a moment to reach their gazes. “I’m not really sure, only four people know what actually happened and they’re all really tight-lipped about it.”

“You mean five?” The words spilled out of Akaashi’s mouth before he could stop them, and he was actually surprised by his own audacity.

“Oh my God,” Oikawa gasped, pointing a finger at Suga. “You know what happened, don’t you?”

“No, I-”

“Sugawara Koushi I _swear if you set their rink on fire_ -”

“I _didn’t_!” Suga hissed, ducking to avoid the curious gazes of the parents that sat around them. “Someone told me in confidence about what happened.”

Now that he had gotten all that he could from Suga, Oikawa leaned in towards Akaashi: his newest source of information. “Who do you think told him?”

Akaashi leaned back, pushing his spine against the cinderblock wall. “Well, I’m pretty sure Kuroo was there.”

“How do you figure?”

“Just a hunch. He’s troublesome.” Akaashi answered, and after a second of careful deliberation- “And I don’t trust him.”

“Well, Bokuto and Kuroo practically come in a set so…”

“That’s two out of four.”

“Five,” Oikawa corrected, sending a watered-down glare toward Suga.

“Right, two out of five.” he echoed, preferring Detective Oikawa over Pissy Oikawa- so long as he wasn’t on the other side of the interrogation table.

“So who would trust Suga enough to tell him something like that?” The brunette asked, and it only took the two of them a few seconds before simultaneously coming to a conclusion, Oikawa snapping his fingers with finality.

“Daichi.”: was the unanimous result.

They both ignored the eye-roll Suga gave them and continued the investigation.

Akaashi hummed, twisting his ring finger as he started to get lost in thought. “Who else would be there? Someone who either matches the energy of Bokuto and Kuroo or Daichi?” He began dutifully picking through the members of the team, recalling what Bokuto had told him. Nishinoya was troublesome, yes, but he almost always hung out with Tanaka or Asahi. Aone was too shy to find himself in such a situation unless he was just _that_ unlucky. That only left- “Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa’s eyes widened to an impossible degree. “No. He wouldn’t-”

“It makes sense, I think.” Iwaizumi was one of the more responsible members of the team, and he and Daichi seemed to get along well. He could’ve been present… maybe.

Akaashi's investigative partner didn’t seem too happy with his newest suspect. “This is unbelievable.”

A quiet laugh from Suga drew their attention to him. “You’re just upset because Iwaizumi didn’t tell you.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me? Oh, Suga, darling, your honesty is so refreshing, y’know that?”

“I’m not telling you anything, that would ruin Iwazumi’s fun.”

Akaashi’s brain began the ever-so-helpful process of blocking out Oikawa’s indignant squawks, it was really the only thing it could do at the drop of a hat, and for that he was grateful. Could Bokuto have been there? He was exceedingly reckless, and when he was with Kuroo it was like adding fuel to the fire. He bit the inside of his cheek, in that case, could Kuroo have been the _literal_ fuel to the fire? Akaashi wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out if the guy he was currently having ahem- _feelings_ for was an actual arsonist.

But then again… as Akaashi narrowly missed a hand Oikawa flung out during his fit, he started to wonder if he could get Bokuto to tell him what happened. He wouldn’t ask him outright -oh no, definitely not- he would be subtle about it, maybe just bring it up in conversation and see where it went. Akaashi was quietly sure of his ability to get Bokuto to open up to him about the secret of the five-foot-wide scorch mark in their old rink.

_Like that’ll happen_. A voice in the back of his head muttered.

_And why’s that?_

_Because in order to get Bokuto to tell you what happened, you have to actually talk to him, you idiot._

_Oh_ . Akaashi shifted in his seat, confidence thoroughly ripped to shreds within a millisecond. _Right. That sort of goes against the whole avoidance thing, huh?_

_You betcha._

When you looked past the unresolved gay feelings, what really held Akaashi back from talking to Bokuto? They were friends, right? ( _Right_?) And friends talked to one another... in a friendly manner... because that's what friends do. Akaashi ran a hand down his face with an internal groan, because he knew that if the two sharks sitting next to him smelled a whiff of discontent they would probably attack him with another interrogation. 

Had Bokuto even noticed? Sure, Akaashi had been set on avoiding the exuberant hockey captain for the week, but they still talked, just not as much. He could only defend himself against the unnamed chest pain and the red cheeks for so long until he was inevitably cornered by Bokuto into a conversation. He was sure the other boy had been too busy prepping his team for the game to even notice the distinct lack of exhausted figure skater. At least, he was sure until he remembered Suga’s warning from earlier that day- “ _I’m not the only one who noticed what you’ve been doing_ ”.

At first, Akaashi thought Suga had been referring to Oikawa and his perpetual nosiness, but now that he thought about it, it made sense that it was Bokuto. Akaashi had to refrain from kicking himself, but by God did he deserve it. So Bokuto _had_ noticed. What if he thought Akaashi was mad at him? That was a stupid question, he realized because he was talking about the same person who thought Akaashi would be mad at him because it rained.

Akaashi cursed lowly under his breath. Bokuto thought Akaashi was mad at him, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth. It was all because Akaashi couldn’t handle himself and as a result, he pushed Bokuto away.

_Wasn’t that what you wanted?_

_No, no of course not. I just-_

_He probably thinks you hate him now. Good luck trying to talk to him._

Akaashi threaded his fingers through his hair, momentarily grabbing the curls near the nape of his neck in all his frustration. This was all his fault. He slouched further in his seat as he bounced his leg, suddenly feeling restless.

His heart jumped when the locker room door opened, and the entire hockey team piled out, Daichi struggling not to trip over an excited Nishinoya. As soon as his eyes spotted a shock of silver hair Akaashi sat up in his seat, hoping that if he could catch Bokuto’s eyes then maybe he could communicate every single thought he had had for the past five minutes.

Bokuto never looked up, and something in Akaashi’s chest dropped.

His mental unraveling was interrupted by Suga’s muffled ringtone as he hastily answered the call. He ignored the two other boy’s inquiring looks as he mumbled a few clipped responses into the phone until he hung up with a tired sigh threatening to slip past his lips. Suga brushed off Oikawa’s silent question that came in the form of raised eyebrows as he stood up.

“My dad needs me,” was all he said as he slipped past them, sounding more weary than usual.

Akaashi took Suga’s retreating form as a welcome momentary distraction. “He seems more stressed than usual,” he muttered, fidgeting the ends of his sleeves.

No response came from Oikawa, and upon further inspection, Akaashi found him leaned forward in his seat, eyebrows furrowed at something happening near the ice. It looked as though Pissy Oikawa had returned with a vengeance, and without Suga there to keep the peace, Akaashi felt like he was walking on eggshells.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Oikawa’s response came in the form of his fists tightening around the hem of his shirt, that and the sweet murmuring of “ _That bitch_ ,” in the most scandalized tone of voice Akaashi had ever heard.

He fought back the usual automatic reaction and instead followed Oikawa’s line of focus, interest peaking when his eyes landed on two people by the rail guard. It was Iwaizumi and… some girl Akaashi had never seen before in his life. Were they friends? They were standing awfully close but then again-

_Oh._ Akaashi wasn’t sure if he said it out loud, but he knew his mouth opened the slightest bit when the girl reached up to peck the hockey player on the lips.

So this was what Oikawa had been upset about. Akaashi risked a glance at his friend, flinching at the brunette’s pained expression. It was obvious Oikawa had his eyes on “ _Iwa_ ”, and now that it came to light that he had what looked to be a girlfriend… what could he say? Akaashi had never been the best at consoling people. Where was Suga when he needed him?

Akaashi cleared his throat, eyes flicking between his friend and the pair down by the ice. “Hey, look I-”

“Quick he’s looking this way- ‘Kaashi kiss me.” Intense brown pinned the figure skater in his seat and he was forced to dodge the hand that shot out to grab his forearm.

Akaashi pressed his lips into a thin line. “For the last time, Oikawa, I won’t kiss you.”

He only clicked his tongue, mildly irritated. “Your loss.”

“Who is she?” he asked, ignoring the avalanche of questions that tumbled around the space of his head following the narrowly avoided kiss.

“‘Kaashi, were you not listening? She’s a bitch.”

“Oh, right,” Akaashi said, remaining unconvinced by Oikawa’s tense posture. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Oikawa sighed deeply, pushing his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward.

_Best to just leave him alone and wait for Suga._

“Hey,” a familiar voice chirped. And Akaashi swore he could see a halo dangling over Suga’s head as he moved to sit back down in his spot next to the exasperated figure skater.

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear._

“That was quick,” he said, making room for the other boy on the metal bleachers.

“Yeah,” Suga paused, something unnamed slipping into his voice. “It wasn’t very important anyway.”

As soon as he sat down, the grey-haired boy noticed something was off. “What’s with him?” He asked, gesturing toward Oikawa.

“A bitch.” Akaashi responded with a shrug.

“Ah,” Suga nodded as if that answered everything.

If only it did.

The thought stuck with him over half an hour later because _really_ , if only a simple phrase fixed everything. Oh, what Akaashi wouldn’t give to get rid of the weight on his chest, to be able to breathe easily and have a head full of thoughts only pertaining to what was important that very moment. It sounded so very uplifting and so very foreign at the very same time because there was never a moment in his life that Akaashi felt like he could relax.

Especially now.

Akaashi held his breath in a closed fist, his eyes pinned onto a single figure as it moved around the crowded rink. He had never followed any sports despite actively competing in one, but he was beginning to reconsider, if only for Bokuto. And it was starting to become a problem, really, because he couldn’t keep up with the game (not that he would understand what was happening in the first place, honestly). 

From the first time Bokuto stumbled onto the ice, Akaashi knew the boy possessed enough muscle mass to throw the figure skater clear across the rink. And even without the padding customary of a hockey player’s uniform, the captain’s bulk was almost intimidating. In fact, it would’ve been, if Akaashi didn’t know how much of a goof the boy really was.

Bokuto Koutaro was many things, Akaashi learned, but intimidating wasn’t one of them.

Perhaps that was how he came across at first, he did have that way about him when he focused on certain things, so much so that it was easy to think it overwhelming (especially when you found yourself as the subject of interest). He supposed Bokuto couldn’t help it though, he had a tendency to always put forth effort over one hundred percent. It was endearing, in a way. 

And now, as he watched Bokuto zip through the jostling crowd, Akaashi noticed how that effort translated on the ice. It was truly something to behold, and he couldn’t imagine how discouraging it was to be up against him in something like hockey, something he excelled at greatly, by the looks of it. While Akaashi didn’t follow hockey and therefore didn’t exactly know what was happening, the premise of the game appeared to be rather straightforward: shoot the puck past the opposing side’s defenses and into the net- and that was exactly what Bokuto was doing, a hell of a lot.

With every successful shot, Bokuto seemed to flourish even more, smiling wider under the rough praise handed to him by his exhilarated teammates. It came in the form of a jolting slap on the back by Iwaizumi, a harsh knock on the helmet by Tanaka, and even a sharp nod from Aone from time-to-time, and with every gesture, the hockey captain grew brighter. It was like his team was stoking the flames of a fire, as the boy only became more energized each time, determined to keep up with the high morale and win.

Akaashi found that he couldn’t look away. How was it that he could be drawn to someone that seemed to be the complete opposite of him? This boy, he was bright and significant and he was everything that Akaashi wasn’t. He was a star, a flash of color in his otherwise monochrome life. And Akaashi could only hope to bask in his light for as long he would allow him to.

Akaashi had always considered Icarus to be ignorant. What else would excuse the way he mindlessly devoted himself to something that would ultimately destroy him? The sun was the sun after all, cruel and ethereal and devastating.

But was this how Icarus felt?- as he hurled through the sky, eyes widened in feral desperation and transfixed on something he could never truly be a part of. As he threw his head back and bared himself in a moment of raw candor, offering his mortality to something beyond himself. 

Of course, he thought Icarus to be ignorant. Because how could Akaashi be expected to understand the concept of devotion before feeling the gravity of it? For someone to be able to fully grasp something so immense…

Akaashi Keiji should’ve known he was doomed the moment those yellow eyes first met his.

And in a moment of inverted deja vu, the hockey player looked up, his eyes locking immediately onto Akaashi’s as if he had known where the figure skater was all along. The raven’s breath was caught in his throat at the sight of it, through the wiring of his helmet guard was one of the biggest grins Akaashi had ever seen. It was intense and electrifying and it was everything he had ever wanted. He felt his chest constrict, feeling so horribly light as if his lungs were merely overfilled balloons due to pop at any second.

One smile was all it took and Akaashi felt like he had been gifted the universe- oh, he was in trouble but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at that very moment.

His gaze was broken with an unceremonious shove from Daichi, and it left the hockey captain stumbling out of surprise. He turned to the figure skater one last time, throwing him an excited wave, and Akaashi could practically hear his voice, not unlike the many early mornings spent in that very same spot, when Bokuto would shout excitedly “ _Did you see that? Did you see that awesome move I just did? Impressive, huh?_ ”.

Akaashi gave a small, breathless laugh accompanied by a wave of his own. “ _Yes, Bokuto, very impressive. I’m proud._ ”

Bokuto was the very epitome of _bright_. His existence in itself was loud and blinding, like an explosion that Akaashi found himself caught in the shockwaves of. He was one of the few people whose presence inadvertently commanded entire rooms and vied for any and all attention because, with just one look, it was obvious that Bokuto was made to be something great. He warmed others with his light, pulling people into his orbit like a star, and who was Akaashi to deny the will of gravity? With his potential and undeniable importance in the lives of those around him, to Akaashi, Bokuto was the natural-born protagonist of the world.

He watched, helpless to the throbbing in his chest as the hockey captain dove into a quick shot toward the net, and the ringing in his ears as the crowd cheered for his team’s newest point.

“ _He’s… like a star out there_.”

Akaashi wasn’t sure if he said the thought out loud until Suga flinched beside him. 

Suga opened his mouth, before closing it a few times, trying to grasp words that obviously weren’t there. “...You want to tell me something?”

The figure skater’s expression hardened. “Absolutely not.”

Akaashi never considered himself a hockey fan, but his eyes never left their star player, even though the two times that Nishinoya had been given a penalty for fighting the other team’s players when they had gotten too rough on Asahi, when Aone had managed to single-handedly hold off three people, and when they ultimately won the game with a noticeable gap in points earned. 

_Most of those points came from Bokuto_. A voice in the back of his head reminded him.

The tips of Akaashi’s fingers tingled as Oikawa pulled him down the steps of the bleachers, Suga trailing behind them much less hurriedly. The parents milled around the entrance of the foyer, where many of the hockey players stood, the weight of exhaustion taking its toll. He resisted the urge to pull a face as they got closer, the smell of overworked teenage boys was pungent and it wasn’t exactly Akaashi’s favorite thing in the world.

“‘Kaashi if you don’t walk faster-”

“You’ll make my life a living hell, I know already.” Akaashi sighed. “Why’re you so eager?”

Oikawa looked back at him with a smile. “To talk to Iwa, of course!”

The figure skater’s expression screwed up into one of bewilderment. What he wouldn’t give to have the audacity of one Oikawa Toru.

The pair stopped dead in their tracks when they reached the center of the crowd and Oikawa, with a death grip on Akaashi’s wrist, swiveled on his heel in search of one specific, grumpy hockey player. Furrowing his brows in what must’ve been frustrated, the brunette zeroed in on two unsuspecting boys in the middle of a deceivingly light conversation. 

“Daichi!” Oikawa crowed, his words doused in a sickeningly sweet fondness.

The vice-captain looked up, and Suga’s gaze followed, both equally perplexed. “Oikawa?”

“Do you happen to know where Iwa is?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in the locker room?” Daichi answered, reluctance visible on his features, as though he were disobeying a direct order. And he probably was, he doubted Iwaizumi wanted to deal with Oikawa while he got dressed.

“Ah!” Oikawa clapped his hands together, ignoring Akaashi as he rubbed the newly inflicted fingermarks on his wrist. “Perfect, thanks a bunch!”

Suga’s murmuring was soft on Akaashi’s ears as the boy leaned toward Daichi. “What was that about?”

Daichi sighed, watching as Oikawa disappeared into the crowd like a vengeful specter. “I don’t even think _I_ know.”

Akaashi was tempted to tell them about the quote “ _bitch_ ” he and Oikawa saw earlier that day, but as the words formed he was interrupted by a peal of booming laughter. The sound was so painfully familiar in the way it caused his chest to tighten and his mouth to dry up. Before he could think, he was slipping through the droves of people, toward the sound that came from the only person capable of causing such a reaction.

Bokuto stood propped against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, hair matted down in all his disgustingly sweaty glory. As Akaashi got closer, he realized the hockey captain was talking to Kuroo and a hyperactive Hinata. And Kuroo, as if he could smell the gay panic coming from upwind, locked eyes directly with Akaashi, flashing him the usual irritating smirk that made the figure skater involuntarily frown. 

But instead of the normal taunting, he’d be subjected to, Kuroo decided it was best to keep Akaashi on his toes with a complete break of character, shooting Bokuto a small excuse before ushering Hinta with him toward the counter. Akaashi pulled on his fingers until the mess of black hair was of sight, he definitely didn’t trust the boy, and he was sure he’d have hell to pay for his compliance later on, but it was worth it.

“Bokuto,” the name escaped Akaashi’s lips without much thought, and he was rewarded with a bright pair of eyes and a glowing smile.

_Yeah, definitely worth it._

“‘Gaashi?” Bokuto immediately pushed off of the wall, hands outstretched in front of him, almost hesitant, like water catching on the lip of a cup before spilling over. It sounded hesitant until- “ _Agaashi_!”

It was a spill Akaashi didn’t mind cleaning up.

He rushed forward, an apology spilling out of his mouth as Bokuto’s water bottle bounced against the tile flooring, the hand that previously held it reaching up to hug the shorter boy.

Admittedly, Bokuto was a lot sweatier than Akaashi expected. He could feel it, slick under his palms as Akaashi’s arms wrapped around the boy’s neck, not only that, but he could smell it too. It was strong around the collar of his jersey as he buried his forehead above Bokuto’s collar bone. Not exactly ideal, but Akaashi couldn’t find it in himself to care because finally, _finally_ , he had Bokuto near him again. He had missed the star’s warmth more than he realized.

“Are you mad at me?” Bokuto’s voice sounded muffled in Akaashi’s ears, and he only hugged the hockey captain tighter.

“No I- I was _never_ mad at you.” Akaashi almost smiles when he feels Bokuto’s arms tighten in silent response. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to make you feel like that.”

Bokuto sighed, tension melting from his shoulders. He waited a few seconds, then: “Did I do good today?”

This caused a smile to break open on Akaashi’s face, a tittering laugh following soon after. “Bokuto you did great.”

“I did?”

“Of course.”

Akaashi didn’t get much of a warning before he found himself being lifted a good two feet off the ground. Bokuto’s arms were wrapped tight around the figure skater’s back and his spine bowed to accommodate for the sudden change in weight as he spun the unsuspecting boy around. 

  
Akaashi’s feet pointed stiffly with the lack of stable ground beneath them, his grip on the sweaty hockey jersey causing his knuckles to turn white. He was sure the “ _oomph_ ” that came out of his mouth as he was being lifted was less than attractive, but he couldn’t help but smile at the warm laugh that came from the hockey captain. Past Akaashi may have had the right idea at first, but he knew he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you bet your ass suga and oikawa have a running bet on how long it'll take akaashi and bokuto to get together.


	22. Yellow Lilies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is tired,  
> Bokuto is hungry,  
> The author needs to follow a schedule.
> 
> Yellow Liles: Enjoyment and thankfulness  
> Wow A Song: Reason for Dreaming -The Happy Fits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is sponsored by my vehement dislike for tea, i know i'm missing out on that good leaf juice, but i just can't get myself to like it,,, sorry mom.
> 
> also a happy belated birthday to my boy :,) i don't know what made me look at Akaashi and decide to project literally every thought i've had onto him,, but here we are i guess.

_We don't even need a reason for dreamin'.  
You and I can act it out.  
Life when I'm with you just loses all its meaning.  
There's nothing else than what is now_

_________________

Akaashi loved Takeda, he truly did. He was rather unassuming at first glance, with pale skin and wild hair and large brown eyes hiding behind a pair of oversized rectangular glasses (of which would often slip down the narrow bridge of his nose). Takeda was a man who obsessively drank whatever tea Suga had him hooked on, and looked like he suffered from insomnia even worse than Akaashi. In fact, despite being in his mid-thirties he still looked like a college student.

But he was a wonderful coach, his methods being gentle and persistent, to the point where one tiny sigh from the shorter man quickly and all-too effectively conveyed any disappointment he may have had. And if there was anything Akaashi hated, it was that  _ sigh _ (Kageyama and Hinata were usually on the receiving end of them). Takeda was a young man whose previous figure skating career was not well known, but he was a brilliant choreographer and was often in cahoots with the local dance instructor, which showed in his programs.

So yes, Akaashi loved the man to pieces, he was like a father to him. And anyone who had anything bad to say about Takeda would probably never live to see the light of day again.

But dear God was Akaashi tired, and he would probably kill a man for a coffee right about now. That or at least an ounce, a smidgen, a  _ grain _ -if you will- of energy, and he just couldn’t see tea doing that for him, he was too far gone. He was just beginning to contemplate caffeine patches as he finished going through his technical program for what must’ve been the thirtieth time that night because,  _ really, how expensive could they be _ ?

Akaashi knew a stable diet was important, it was the base for all athletes with the mantra “ _ you get out what you put in _ ” long ago engraved somewhere in the recess of his brain. As someone who competed in a rigorous sport such as figure skating, it was key to balance out the correct ratio of carbs to protein with a low-fat diet. Granted, most of it depended on numerous personal factors but the point was, Akaashi was supposed to be on a strict diet, especially as competition season continued. 

Reasonably, he knew this. It was common sense enforced largely by Takeda with his gentle reminding and subtle nudge in the right direction. It was his job, as a coach, to make sure his students were performing in top shape, so Akaashi couldn’t blame him much for his persistence.

However, as Akaashi slid to the edge of the rink, wiping the sweat from his forehead, there was nothing he wanted more than the familiar taste of an iced coffee with extra sugar. The cold air burned the back of his throat as he tried to catch his breath, and he was beginning to feel a hint of soreness in his thighs, a warning that if he didn’t stop while he was ahead, he’d have hell to pay tomorrow.

He dropped his head into the crook of his elbow as he rested his arms on the cool metal of the railing, pushing out a tired hum at the prospect of getting a cinnamon pastry on the way home. Oh, how wonderful it would be if all the bakeries hadn’t closed nearly four hours ago.

How wonderful it would be if he could eat that cinnamon pastry without getting The Sigh from Takeda.

“Thirsty?” a voice chirped, situated right above his head as its owner stood on the other side of the rail guard.

Akaashi looked up, nearly headbutting Bokuto’s chin in the process and coming face-to-face to pectorals that strained the poor shirt the boy was wearing. He really needed Bokuto to consider buying a size up when getting shirts, because Akaashi didn’t know just how much of this he could take.

_ Hell. Yes.  _ A voice in the back of his head nearly shouted, which, despite being internal, still caused Akaashi to hang his head with embarrassment.

“Yes,” came his much more appropriate response, though strained.

“Okay, just a sec!” 

Akaashi listened to Bokuto sift through the figure skater’s practice bag and fought in the losing battle to keep a smile off his face. He couldn’t help it- it was nearing ten on a Wednesday night and the hockey captain decided to stay back and help Akaashi work through the final kinks in his program. Anyone else would have just reassured him that there was nothing else he could do, it being the night before they were due to get on a flight for their next competition, that it would be easier to just suck it up and go home. But Bokuto -sweet, good-natured Bokuto- had decided to stay and weather through Akaashi’s persistent doubts. 

They were closing in on their third hour at the rink, and every time Akaashi had stopped to give his own self-criticism, the hockey captain would break through his snowballing thoughts, and smother the boy with optimism. They were usually simple things, like “ _ Hey hey hey! Those final jumps were really good _ !” or “ _ That one part with all the spinning has gotten a lot better _ !”. Such statements would progress and Bokuto was guaranteed not to stop until a heavy blush coated Akaashi’s cheeks, until he felt that Akaashi believed him.

The feeling of metal pressed against his bare arm pushed Akaashi to look up once more and was met with the yellow of his thermos (yellow was quickly becoming his favorite color and he wasn’t sure why). Dull blue darted up to the wide smile Bokuto was sporting, and Akaashi suddenly felt energized enough to straighten his posture.

“What’s on the menu today?” he asked, the hesitancy in his voice causing him to wince.

Bokuto’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, and for a split second Akaashi entertained the idea of smoothing out the crease they made on his forehead.

“I think Suga said something about green tea?”

Akaashi nodded somberly. “Green tea it is.”

Suga’s newest habit was getting Akaashi to try a different type of tea each day, usually forcing it on him by filling his thermos with it. It was all with the hope of him finding one that he preferred, or actually enjoyed. The figure skater could almost cry at the thought of his coffee being dumped in the sink of the ice rink’s bathroom, and soon he started bringing the canister in empty, if only to save his sanity.

He didn’t bother taking a whiff before indulging in a large mouthful. To him, it always initially tasted the same, earthy, or perhaps floral to a certain degree. It was no different this time, however, the aftertaste was a bit more bittersweet than he was accustomed to, and it left him humming with uncertainty, swirling the olive-colored liquid in the thermos.

“How is it?” Bokuto asked, the apprehension in his voice comparable to if he were questioning a critic during a sub-par dining experience.

“Nothing really different than usual,” Akaashi said with a shrug.

There was a beat of silence, and then: “Can I try?”

It was like second nature, handing the thermos off to Bokuto, it wasn’t his first time sharing drinks with people, after all. It was usually Oikawa though, incessant and curious about whatever Akaashi got from Yamaguchi’s cafe. 

And Bokuto  _ certainly _ wasn’t Oikawa.

For  _ one _ , they were nothing alike, Bokuto’s biceps likely had the same circumference as the brunette’s head, overstyled hair, and all. And  _ two _ (and most damningly) Akaashi didn’t have romantic feelings for Oikawa, it was quite the opposite actually, they lay just on the cusp of wanting to throw something in his general direction every time the boy entered the room. But Bokuto…. Oh  _ no _ .

The firing of his neurons came a bit delayed as Akaashi watched Bokuto’s lips connect with the metal of his thermos. His mouth felt inexplicably dry at that moment.

Bokuto pulled the drink away from himself, smacking his lips with a concentrated expression on his face. “It tastes… fancy?”

Akaashi’s mental undoing stopped in its tracks. “Fancy?”

“Yeah,”

“How so?”

“I dunno, just…” Bokuto paused, the words escaping him. “Just fancy.”

He was about to fire a subtle come-back until Bokuto shoved the drink back into his hands and Akaashi’s brain promptly turned into television static.

“Here, drink it. Suga will be mad at you if you don’t.” His words were accompanied by a self-assured smile that made Akaashi’s legs feel just the tiniest bit weaker. Though there was probably no direct correlation.

Akaashi stared down at the lip of the thermos, swallowing thickly while he was helplessly subjected to his inner turmoil.

_ What are you, in fifth grade!? Just drink it! _

_ But it's like a… _

_ Don’t you dare. _

_ But it's- _

_ No. _

Akaashi brought the drink to his mouth, his lips pursed tight.

_ It's like an indirect kiss. _

_ You’re being really weird right now. Stop. _

_ Maybe I  _ am _ a third-grader. _

_ Obviously. Now just drink it and get it over with. _

The second voice sounded suspiciously like Oikawa, and Akaashi pushed back that information for him to mull over later that night. He threw his head back, quickly gulping down as much of the tea as he could without choking. The cap of the thermos clattered as he took an embarrassingly long time trying to set it in the grooves of the lip, his fingers feeling too long and awkward to function.

_ I just indirectly kissed Bokuto. _

_ No, you didn’t. Besides I’m sure he does this with everyone, probably the whole hockey team. _

Akaashi froze.  _ Oh my fucking God. Does that mean I just indirectly-indirectly kissed Kuroo? _

_ Well, good thing it doesn’t work like that, idiot. _

The figure skater let out a deep, suffering sigh and he sunk back into the railing, inwardly hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to melt into the floor if he tried hard enough. After all, the will of man was a commendable thing, or so he had been told. So bending reality through the power of sheer self-hatred couldn’t be so far-fetched.

“You’re tired,”

Akaashi looked up from his skates, eyes catching on sterling silver and dimly illuminated gold. Even in the sleepy corner of the rink, Bokuto left him grasping dumbly for the right string of words to describe how his chest twisted every time he saw him. It was so stupidly cliche, the way Akaashi turned to gilded prose whenever Bokuto entered the scene, and it made him want to rip every flowery romance novel to pieces all on the grounds of false advertising. 

They had unfairly romanticized romance. The butterflies in his stomach were hornets, the blush on his face burned like a rash, and his sweating palms… were just gross. There was nothing romantic about this. And yet, the more Akaashi lost himself in this boy, the more he dared himself to dream- to entertain the countless  _ what if’s _ that would never be.

Akaashi blinked and tightened his hold on the thermos. The yellow of it seemed to burn his hand, but he welcomed it nonetheless. “Is it obvious?”

“Yeah,” a smile, then a realization. “Wait, no I mean uh-  _ yes _ , in the sense that anyone would be tired after all that, but like-  _ no _ , you don’t look bad ‘Gaashi. You’re always really pretty...  _ great _ ! You’re really pretty great, is what I mean.”

The words took their time sinking into Akaashi’s brain, and the end result was a confused expression and a head tilted approximately sixty degrees to the right. “Thank you?”

The ends of Bokuto’s hair seemed to curl in on themselves as the hockey captain slapped his cheeks, avoiding the other boy with furrowed eyebrows and a pout. “Just ignore me, please… I don’t know how to…  _ speak _ , I guess.”

A frown picked at the ends of Akaashi’s mouth as he drifted toward the exit off the ice. “Bokuto it's okay, it's been a long day and we’re all probably just tired.” He sent a reassuring smile the boy’s way, but deep down he knew something was amiss and he didn’t know how to go about it. “We should probably head home.”

He didn’t look up for Bokuto’s uncharacteristically subdued ‘ _ okay _ ’ while Akaashi tugged his skates off. Could it have involved school? Hockey? Kuroo?  _ Akaashi _ ? Looking back on the day, nothing seemed off, but then again, the figure skater had been preoccupied with the upcoming competition. He fought back a groan, it was like the damn thing had coaxed a heedless Akaashi into a dark alley under the guise of oversized coats and pretty boys, only to get jumped with an early flight out to the next competition center hours away.

While he may have been training more than usual, Akaashi found that he couldn’t be any less mentally prepared for it all. The simple anticipation of having to deal with a half-asleep Oikawa in both the airport and the hotel made Akaashi want to crumple to the floor like an empty soda can.

_ But until then… _ Akaashi chanced a quick glance at the other boy, who was sporting a healthy blush as he poured all of his concentration into reading the packaging of a granola bar.  _ We have other things to worry about. _

“Are you hungry?” he asked, popping his head through the opening of his pullover. “You can have that if you’d like. Suga usually slips those in my bag when he thinks I’m not looking.”

Wide eyes blinked up at him. “Are you sure?” Bokuto waited for his dismissive nod before digging into the plastic packaging. The granola bar disappeared quicker than Akaashi could blink and it wasn’t until he caught the disapproving look on Bokuto’s face did he remember that the hockey captain despised dark chocolate. 

“This tastes like my mom’s purse…” Bokuto muttered as he passed Akaashi’s bag over to him.

A smile screwed itself onto Akaashi’s features in his attempt to hide his amusement. “I don’t know why you ate that if we both knew you wouldn’t like it.”

Yellow eyes darkened in a pout. It was an expression Bokuto wore often that day, and Akaashi swallowed a sour pill of concern at the thought. “Well, you offered,”

He fought against the exhaustion weighing him down as Akaashi zipped his practice bag with finality, the shoulder strap digging into the usual spot by his collarbone. He felt gross, dried sweat caused his hair to curl more dramatically around his ears, and Akaashi was sure he wasn’t exactly a pretty sight at that moment. When he got home, he’d have to clean out his bag and finish packing and the thought alone made Akaashi drag his feet a little slower toward the exit. Sectionals had  _ really _ caught him unprepared.

_ It’s only because you’re gay, Keiji. _

Akaashi pursed his lips, restless fingers tugging through the stiff knots in his hair. It frustrated him because it was true. As much as he hated to admit it, his brain had been filled with a certain hockey captain for the past few weeks, so much so that the steadily mounting anxiety that was typical of an upcoming competition had become background noise. It was odd, not having to deal with the tingling weight of nervousness on his chest as the days counted down, and he wasn’t sure if he preferred it over the contrasting feeling that came from simply existing near Bokuto.

_ Speaking of which… _

Bokuto had stilled near the counter, mindlessly picking at the wrapper of the granola bar that allegedly tasted like a middle-aged woman’s purse. He was obviously stalling, and Akaashi tried his damndest to choke back a tired sigh as he shifted on his feet and turned to the other boy. He had been so,  _ so _ close to the door, so close to making his way home, and so close to getting a couple of hours of sleep. But, of course, certain things take priority.

“When’s your flight?” Bokuto’s voice was hesitant as if he were walking on eggshells. Did Akaashi make him feel like that? It made something in his stomach twist unpleasantly. 

Akaashi adjusted the strap of his bag. “Six,”

“Oh…” a beat of silence, then- “Can I drive you home?”

“You don’t have to, it’s really out of the way…” the words died in his mouth when the ends of Bokuto’s hair drooped a bit. Did him leaving have something to do with Bokuto’s mood? Akaashi couldn’t imagine how, but he figured it was worth a shot. “I mean- if you’re really okay with it.”

And that was how he found himself back in the passenger’s seat of Bokuto’s car, wrapped in the familiar smell of something akin to floral dryer sheets. It was unexplainable how relaxed he felt sinking into the seat, if only the driver didn’t give him heart issues. A blast of air conditioning made Akaashi happy he had the mind to put his jacket on before leaving, even if he forgot to take off Bokuto’s good luck charm. The smooth weight of the charm pressed into cooling skin underneath his shirt, but he felt content leaving it where it was.

Akaashi was hesitant to admit that he didn’t know how good luck charms were supposed to work. He reasoned that it was better to have good experiences and practices with it for some sort of positive… residual energy? At least, that was what he told himself when he saw Bokuto beaming in response to him wearing it that night. 

The driver’s door slammed closed as Bokuto wriggled into his seat, grimacing against the cold air coming out of the vents and opting to adjust for something warmer before doing anything else.

“Are you nervous about the competition?”

Akaashi almost didn’t register Bokuto’s voice, he was too busy focusing on the shift of muscle in the hockey captain’s arm as it reached to fiddle with the controls. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Well, I’m not exactly jumping for joy right now.”

“Oh,” Bokuto leaned against the wheel. “I feel like that was the wrong thing to ask. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t make anything worse.”

It was that kind of warm consideration that frequently caught Akaashi off guard, and it left the figure skater reeling for control over the color of his cheeks once more. “No, it's okay, really. It’s not exactly like last time.”

Dull eyes watched as a tanned hand changed the gear into drive. “Ohoh? Feeling confident are we?”

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitched at the subtle teasing. “No more so than usual. I guess I’ve just been distracted lately, I haven’t had time to think of it.” He pressed his lips tight. He was treading a dangerous line, and he knew that. But somehow when he talked to Bokuto, his tongue loosened while his chest tightened. With him, there was a sense of trust and honesty, because Akaashi knew that the other boy was nothing but sincere, and he always felt pushed to be the same.

Silver eyebrows crumpled themselves into a deep furrow, his eyes never leaving the road as he hummed thoughtfully. “What could be so important that it distracts  _ the _ Akaashi Keiji from skating?” 

_ Take a guess, why don’t you. _

Irony prodded between Akaashi’s shoulder blades like a branding iron, and it caused him to bite into his cheek. He was walking a dangerous line indeed, but how could he stop? The moment he agreed to let Bokuto take him home, the owlish boy seemed to brighten almost immediately, and his odd behavior had been thrown out the window. Akaashi couldn’t help but think that the sacrifice was worth it, so long as the other boy was happy.

“I got it!” Bokuto nearly shouted, snapping his fingers. “You’re dying.”

An incredulous snort shot out of Akaashi before he could stop it, and in his unending embarrassment, he remained silent.  _ At this point, I might as well be. _

Silence was the wrong answer, it caused Bokuto to tilt his head toward the passenger’s seat, worry etched deeply into his features. “ _ Are _ you?”

“No, Bokuto, I’m not dying.” One hand splayed over his cheeks while the other grabbed at the necklace through the fabric of his pullover. He really needed some good luck at the moment.

A beat of thoughtful quiet, the soft chords of an unidentifiable song pulsing through the speakers, then: “Am  _ I _ dying?”

Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, I hope not.” 

“Me too.” Bokuto sat back in his seat, flicking the blinker off as they pulled out of the parking lot. “What’s bothering you so much? You can talk to me about it… if you want.”

“It’s okay, I’ll figure it out on my own. It's not that big a deal.”

_ That’s a damn lie. _

Akaashi frowned at the voice in his head.  _ No one asked you. _

Bokuto hummed once more, obviously not content with Akaashi’s answer, but not willing to push that matter further. He slowed the car at a red light, drumming his fingers along the top of the wheel. “I’m hungry!” he announced, too loud for the small space of the cabin.

Akaashi had half a mind to offer him another one of his granola bars, but he was effectively shut up when the car whipped into the turning lanes at the last second, a choked sound of surprise leaving his throat as he tried not to get smushed into the window beside him. “Bokuto,  _ what _ -”

“I’m hungry,” he simply repeated. “We’re getting something to eat.”

“Do I have a say in this?” Akaashi was just so,  _ so _ tired.

“Nope,”

Akaashi pursed his lips to the monotonous tune of an angry car horn that came from behind them. Bokuto was a good driver until he wasn’t, when he became distracted and only one thing took up his mind. This time it was… food?- no, there was more to it, Akaashi was sure, and it didn’t take a genius to see it. But it did take one to find out just what was capturing his attention so selfishly. It was something he was hesitant to approach candidly because if there was one thing he knew about Bokuto, it was that he was honest. Except now, he seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it, not fully anyway- because he likely would’ve brought it up by now.

Or maybe Akaashi was just overthinking things for the umpteenth time. He wasn’t sure.

“Do you want coffee?”

He looked up from his lap and was met with the glaring lights of a fast-food drive-through. Quandary aside, a resounding yes ricocheted off of Akaashi’s skull, but logic pulled him back to earth.

“It goes against my diet…” His words came out more hesitant than he cared to admit.

Bokuto shrugged as he pulled the car up to the intercom. “Cheat day.” The hopeful quirk of his lips left Akaashi’s mouth feeling dry.

“That excuse doesn’t work if every day I spend with you turns out to be a cheat day.”

It was like the hockey captain could sense the surrender in his voice. “Of course it’ll work!”

“You’re very sure of yourself,” Akaashi sat back against the seat, arms crossed and fingers picking at the fabric of his jacket.

He had every right to be, though, because there was no way he could ever say no to Bokuto. One expectant look or one flash of shining teeth and suddenly the figure skater was strung along like a puppet. Akaashi opted to keep that information to himself, there was no telling how much it would inflate the boy’s ego if he were to ever find out.

Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s smile warming the car, even if he kept his gaze down as he took the offered coffee from the other boy. He could never say no, and it was sure to be a problem (as if it weren’t already).

The drive was relatively subdued when they pulled back out onto the main road, the space between them settling into something almost thoughtful. It was then that Akaashi prepared himself for a long night because he didn’t have to be told to know that they weren’t going to his house right away, there was something to be said and the weight of it caused him to bite the inside of his cheek.

They ended up pulling into the gravel parking lot of an older playground a few blocks away from Akaashi’s house. He had known the plot of land extensively. After he and his mother first moved, Akaashi would often take walks out to the area to clear his head. Those walks stopped after Suga gave him the key to the ice rink.

In a silent agreement, they slid out of the car, and past the dilapidated wood fence that bordered the playground. A few steps in and Akaashi realized just how dark it was. Bokuto’s car lights had flicked off, and the only thing around was a streetlight near the park’s far corner, the garish yellow casting fuzzy shadows across the faded mulch. He found that he didn’t much mind though, and instead focused solely on the cold perspiration of the iced coffee in his hand and the buzzing chorus of crickets that surrounded them.

It was through the film of artificial yellow that Akaashi watched as the fabric of Bokuto’s jacket creased when he walked. Eyes tracing the soft shadows as they bunched up at his elbows and curved over his shoulder blades. The nonsensical urge to trace the fabric folds with a stray finger flitted through Akaashi’s mind, and it only caused him to hold his drink tighter, squashing the thought with little remorse.

The two walked past the swingset, the dry crunch of wood chips in his ears with each step until he followed Bokuto to the playground that had once stood tall with gleaming plastic and vivid colors. They clamored up the steps and edged their way across the arch of the “bridge”, toward the playset’s biggest attraction yet, a faded yellow slide that spiraled down into a well-worn depression in the mulch below. Akaashi half expected Bokuto to attempt to situate himself on the slide and go for a very short, very dizzying ride, but instead, he ducked under the plastic arch that stood just before it.

No words were said as Akaashi watched Bokuto tuck his legs carefully in the space, mindful of the greasy bag of takeout he had ordered for himself. He couldn’t explain it, but Akaashi felt it important that he didn’t move, that he stayed with his hand gripping the chilled metal railing that would likely result in tetanus if he took one wrong step. It wasn’t until Bokuto patted the space across from him that Akaashi decided it was okay to join him.

The end result was an awkward tangle of legs, and honestly, Akaashi didn’t know what he expected when two six-foot teenagers attempted to shove themselves in a space that was probably only meant for one over-excited seven-year-old. Their backs were pushed against opposite walls, and Akaashi could feel the plastic engraving of a cartoonish caterpillar through the thin fabric of his pullover. 

If it weren’t for the bleating of the crickets, Akaashi was sure Bokuto would hear his heart beating. He could feel it thud against the lapis charm resting on his chest, and he had to fight the urge to hold it between cold fingers. In his own senselessness, he kept his eyes trained on the plastic lid of his drink because if he dared look up, he knew there would be nothing but yellow staring back at him. The distance between the tips of their noses was little more than two feet. Twenty-four inches. Sixty centimeters.

The ice cubes in his coffee made a soft, familiar noise as Akaashi stirred them with his straw. “You’ll have to let me pay you back sometime.”

“I buy them for you because I know you like them. It's no big deal, I swear!” Bokuto was set into motion once spurred by Akaashi’s words. The paper of the bag felt amplified in his ears as the other boy dug through it to pull out his food.

An inhale. Fries, and something with chicken.

Akaashi bumped his head against the hard plastic behind him before giving the hockey captain an assessing look. “I know, but you never let me pay for anything.”

Bokuto’s shoulders gave a small bounce. “You can pay for it next time.”

“You always say that, but I never do. That’s not an equal exchange, you know.”

The silver-haired boy laughed. The sound wasn’t as deafening as it usually was, but it was genuine and  _ warm _ , it caused Akaashi’s fingertips to go numb in the cold.

“It’s fine ‘Gaashi, I’m just a pretty great ilantropist.”

Without missing a beat. “ _ Philanthropist _ .” Akaashi was long used to acting as a living spell-check machine.

Bokuto paused his dig through the bag to snap his fingers. “Right, that one. Philanto- philantho… I don’t think I can say it. D’you think we can just settle for sugar daddy for now?”

Akaashi let out a soft huff of laughter against his better judgment. “I’d rather not.”

They didn’t speak as Bokuto tore into a chicken sandwich, messy smears of sauce decorating his chin. Despite the undeniable chill, the air between them was warmed with shared breath. If he leaned forward to catch the weak yellow of the streetlight, he could see the puffs of hot air coming from the two of them, filling their small plastic-guarded space with unconventional warmth. 

But looking past all of that… “I thought you hated the cold.”

Bokuto threw the crumpled up ball of wrapping paper back into the bag. He took a moment to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, and for a millisecond, Akaashi thought back to the heavy coat that still sat waiting on the back of his desk chair.

“I do.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he readjusted his legs, stretching his left so that it pushed against the wall next to Akaashi’s hip. “But… it's nice out here. I used to come here with Kuroo when I was little. Now I just stop by to think and, I don’t know- I like this.”

“This?” Akaashi asked, gesturing to their grand plastic castle that had less than four square feet to its name.

“Mhm!” A sharp, enthusiastic nod. “I like small spaces. They help me think, sometimes.”

Akaashi bit down on his straw, a bad habit that Oikawa had yelled at him for more times than he could recall. “Well, what are you thinking about now?”

_ Just rip the bandaid off, why don’t you. _

“I’m thinking about…” a heavy pause, as if he were weighing the words on his tongue. “You, I guess.”

Akaashi’s throat tightened.  _ Me _ ? He would never understand how someone like Bokuto, someone who exuded significance from every pore on his body, would even bother to give someone like Akaashi the time of day.

Dull blue hyper-focused on the perspiration that dotted his cup. “Me?”

Bokuto hummed. “You’re leaving tomorrow,”

“I’ll be back,”

“You’ll be gone for  _ three _ days though.” the hockey captain’s voice threatened to break out into a whine. “I won’t even be able to see you skate, and you worked really hard for it.”

“Does it bother you that much?” Something bitterly hopeful stirred in his chest.  _ Will you miss me that much? _

“Of course it does!”

In another universe, Bokuto would be stiffening up in a similar fashion to how he was now, the same look of incredulity on his face that translated to an unspoken “ _ duh _ ”. In another universe, Akaashi would’ve spoken his mind, and in the exact same tone that he had just used, Bokuto would say “ _ Of course I will _ !”

But Akaashi had kept his mouth shut, and so had Bokuto… but only for so long.

“I want to see the look on your face when you win again.” In the pocket of his hoodie, Bokuto’s hands shifted. “I really wanted to see it”

Akaashi fought against the fond smile on his face, this was the Bokuto he knew. It was this Bokuto that was painfully sincere, honest, and warm. In Akaashi’s presence, there were times when the boy grew quiet, it was thoughtful and deceptively tender. Unlike earlier, the quiet between them was comfortable, it was something that was easy for Akaashi to melt into, and achingly difficult to leave when the time called for it. And the time would be soon.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back, three days will pass quickly.” he didn’t know how to remedy Bokuto’s initial complaint about not being there because frankly, the potential thought that he would be missed for that time was almost too much to handle at the moment. “And when I get back, I’ll be able to see you play.”

The thought of Bokuto back in his hockey uniform, eyes glowing and focused on the opposing team- Akaashi’s grip on his coffee slipped and the cup fell the short distance to the plastic floor, the solid “ _ pwump _ ” of the drink landing upright echoed in his ears.

“Yeah!” a smile carved itself back onto its rightful place on the face of the star across from him. “And we can hang out after we win! It’ll be so much fun-  _ oh _ ! And my older sister is gonna be in town on Sunday too, you can meet her!”

Akaashi gulped. “Your sister?” 

“Don’t worry, Kiri’s great. She’s just like me, so I know she’ll love you!” Bokuto’s smile was so big, his cheeks nearly pushed his eyes closed.

Akaashi settled back into his plastic backrest, resigning to listen to Bokuto’s teasing stories of his sister, and how Kuroo used to have a crush on her when he was younger, and how distraught he had been when Kiri gracefully rejected him. It was something he took note of, just in case he needed to knock the scheming bed head down a notch.

As he listened to the destructiveness of the Bokuto siblings (two older sisters,  _ two _ ), Akaashi couldn’t help but wonder where he would be if he hadn’t bothered to talk to the eccentric stranger that had managed to sneak into Suga’s ice rink on that humid summer morning. Without Bokuto, he wouldn’t be sitting in an empty park, sharing fries and stories, and he definitely wouldn’t have been as calm as he was now. When he was with the hockey captain, it was like the world seemed just a little smaller, like all of his worries had been put under the lens of reality, and suddenly everything felt a bit more bearable.

Without Bokuto, he likely still would’ve been at the rink, fretting over the details of his technical skate. But here Akaashi was, a french fry sticking out of his mouth as he held his palm up to Bokuto’s because “ _ there’s no way your hands are bigger than mine! _ ” (they were, and the revelation was short-lived because “ _ Christ your hands are freezing ‘Gaashi! _ ”). With Bokuto, laughter bubbled in Akaashi’s throat more often than he was used to, and the warmth of it all left the figure skater not minding the weight in his chest with every word uttered from the other boy’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll admit, this was supposed to be posted on akaashi's birthday, but i got sad and shoved the entire park scene in the chapter,, but i hope you guys liked it lmao because it was really just a bittersweet memory of mine that i thought would fit the mood


	23. Larkspur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is impulsive,  
> Oikawa is stressed,  
> Terushima is pushy.
> 
> Larkspur: Fickleness  
> Wow a Song: California -Ricky Montegomery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry i've been sitting on this chapter for a while but i kinda hate it, oh well
> 
> i read some old chapters a while ago and debated deleting the fic because she can be a little crusty sometimes,, but i decided to try to at least finish this dang thing before i do anything else
> 
> in the meantime, i'll stare at my five other half-finished fanfics and think about my commitment issues i guess ;)

_ I am just a boy, but with a little bit of a culture, I'll go far  
I want the world to know that I'm not just a photograph  
Some way, someday you'll know my name  
If I can let my ego have my face  
I'm not too good to say, "I love you, I love you" _

_______________

_ ‘Vrrrb’ _

In his reflection of the taxi window, his eye twitched in time with the newest notification on his phone. It was a growing pile, one that nearly exceeded the limits of his patience, seeing as though a new message had been systematically thrown onto it for the past ten minutes. It hadn’t stopped vibrating since he left the airport.

“‘Kaashi-”  _ ‘Vrrrb’ _ “-my back is absolutely killing me-”  _ ‘Vrrrb’ _ “-see, this is why I  _ hate _ flying coach. I say next year we splurge and-”  _ ‘Vrrrb’ _ “Holy shit can you please tell your boyfriend to shut the fuck up, I’m in the middle of complaining.”

With a groan, Akaashi slid further down the worn seat of the cab, the cutting edge of his seat belt digging into his neck and leaving an angry red mark on the skin there. On his thigh, his phone screen sprung to life with his newest text notification, the only surprise was that this time, it came from Suga. The exhaustion weighing down on his limbs was what made him stare impassively at the device until Suga’s text was quickly overshadowed by more messages from a certain  _ someone _ .

“Sorry about that,” Akaashi’s voice was still rough from the greatly unfulfilling nap that jumped him during his flight. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your  _ enthralling _ review of our discounted plane seats.”

Oikawa didn’t appreciate his comment, as evident by the way the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown. He could physically see the venom that the other boy was holding back, all for the sake of the cab driver. It was at that point that Akaashi almost wished he volunteered to ride with Hinata and Kageyama… perhaps Takeda had the right idea, after all.

“A cheery conversationalist as always, huh.” The brunette clicked his tongue and resigned himself to zip up his windbreaker and tuck his chin into the excess fabric, a pout undoubtedly making itself at home on his face.

In his experience, Oikawa had never been good company whenever he found himself tired. When the brunette’s eyelids threatened to droop, his mindset slid into one of bickering indifference, similar to that of a child’s. It grated on Akaashi’s nerves, all the whining and pouting and huffing- it was as though he were thrown into babysitting an unwilling eighteen-year-old. 

Tired eyes slid away from the boy next to him and instead opted to look out of the car’s window. Trips to the city weren’t something that Akaashi managed to do often, he considered himself a busy person, after all. However, the crowded streets were unavoidable when the competition center sat cozily surrounded by skyscrapers that clouded his vision with the varying monotones of glass and concrete. 

It was a stark contrast to the small town he was accustomed to, everything felt more enclosed there, it nearly bordered on suffocating. The towering walls around him resembled that of a birdcage, unmoving and imposing against the blue of the sky that hung above. The streets were constantly filled with a bumbling patchwork of cars and pedestrians. The traffic alone caused stress to pick at the frayed edges of his brain.

It usually took Akaashi a few days to get used to it- the noise, the sounds, the  _ people _ . Until then, he opted to stick to the safety of the hotel room. Oikawa spent his time sightseeing while Akaashi reacquainted himself with the too-stiff material of their room’s queen-sized mattresses. It was an arrangement that didn’t come without a fight, the unwavering standstill between an unstoppable force (Oikawa) and an unmovable object (Akaashi).

Another chirp of vibration on his thigh pulled Akaashi’s focus from the window. It was another message from Bokuto, and seeing the contact name on his phone brought him back to the hockey captain’s words from last night.

_ “I’m sorry you won’t be able to see me,” Akaashi gently swirled what was left of his drink as an excuse to avoid eye contact. The contents of the plastic cup were nearly gone, save for what was left of the melted ice and the small mouthful of mocha that Akaashi never got around to. Against his better judgment he took a sip. Coffee water. Gross. _

_ “That’s okay,” Bokuto shifted, the scuffed walls of their four-square foot plastic fortress was no match for the boy’s (frankly inconvenient) bulk. ”I’ll text you a whole bunch while you’re away, so it's like I’m still there with you.” _

_ A huff of laughter escaped Akaashi, the warm air spreading in the small space they shared between themselves. “You make it sound like you’re dying.” _

_ The hockey captain leaned back, stretching out so that his left sneaker bumped against Akaashi’s leg. The yellow of the nearby streetlight just barely reached the two of them in their hiding spot. A slash of artificial light crossed over the planes of Bokuto’s face, catching on the playful glint in his eyes. _

_ “Nah, I plan on living ‘til I’m a hundred-and-thirty.” _

‘ _ Vrrrb _ ’ Another text message.

_ Well, stars do hang around for a long time.  _ A tired voice in the back of his head sighed.

Spurred onward by Oikawa’s not-so-subtle huff of annoyance, Akaashi finally opened up his phone, immediately bombarded by too many notifications to count. If there was one thing to say about Bokuto, it was that he definitely kept his promises. To say that he had texted “a bunch” would be a vast understatement.

“A bunch”, was approximately a basket full, a hearty amount, just enough to leave you full and maybe with the option of a snack for later. Akaashi squinted as he scrolled through the messages. Perhaps Bokuto had gotten his words mixed up again, this was a bit more than “a bunch”. 

Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek as a new message rolled in. The latest ones had been Bokuto asking about his flight… and it appeared the hockey captain had gone off on a tangent about how he had once gotten lost in an airport after getting separated from Daichi. Interesting story for sure, five stars,  _ however _ \- it was Thursday morning, which meant Bokuto was currently in school.

He checked the clock, eleven forty-eight. Fourth period. Bokuto’s least favorite class. That answered questions that Akaashi hadn't even gotten around to asking.

Akaashi was sure he kept a deadpan expression as his fingers pecked at the keyboard.

**I’m happy you’re keeping in touch, but you’re in the middle of anatomy right now, and I think it's best to focus on the lesson considering you got a 53 on your last test…**

It didn’t take long for the responses to start piling in, and for a teasing smile to press against his cheeks.

**akaashiiiiigfdngkldj**

**so mean and for y???**

A few more text bubbles popped up on his screen as Bokuto continued delaying the inevitable: a ceasefire of texts and a promise to call later that night. Akaashi sighed as their conversation ended in a barrage of emojis (he didn’t use them  _ right _ according to Bokuto, whatever the hell that meant), he was positive the hockey captain decided to forgo the notes in his classes today, which meant that their next study session was going to be hell.

Poorly concealed chuckling caught his attention and Akaashi didn’t know what he expected. Of course, Oikawa couldn’t keep to himself.

“You still text like an old person with a stick up their ass.”

Akaashi slid his phone into his - _ not his _ \- coat pocket. “I don’t see how you’d know that considering I don’t even text you.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes, they were still red from the on-and-off napping for the past few hours. “If I did, you’d never respond.”

“Of course. I don’t answer to unknown numbers, it's common sense.”

Thin eyebrows furrowed and a scowl pulled harshly at Oikawa’s features. “You little  _ shit _ , you still haven’t put me in as a contact, have you?”

Akaashi shrugged, sinking further into his seat as he prepared himself for the verbal assault.

“Keiji, how could you  _ it's been five years _ -!” … was all he heard before tuning out the whining.

Akaashi fiddled with the collar of the coat, popping it up to let the material rub absently at his cheek. It took an embarrassingly large amount of willpower to keep him from tucking his chin into the damn thing and smelling it. His upfront refusal of the action kept him rooted in place, fisting the excess fabric of the sleeves.

_ Don’t smell it. Pretty sure that’s crossing a line. _

There was no winning the internal argument, no matter the outcome Akaashi would ultimately feel like the loser. And perhaps he was.

_ There is no “perhaps” on this one. You definitely are. _

Akaashi sighed.  _ I definitely am. _

It was all because of the plain and simple fact that the coat that he was currently wrapped up in wasn’t his. And even though it had hung on the back of his desk chair for the past few weeks, it still carried with it the surprisingly strong smell of dryer sheets. Of cleanliness and warmth. Of Bokuto. If he cared to look past the curious twinge in his chest, Akaashi would be amused by the faded smell of cologne that stained the ends of the coat’s sleeves. It was likely a habit the hockey captain had picked up from his older sisters, and it left a ghost of a smile on his face when he really thought about it.

“-you’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Akaashi’s smile immediately dropped when his thoughts were shattered by the voice of an exacerbated Oikawa. His eyes lifted from the sight of his hands peeking out of the loose ends of the sleeves, and dragged sourly up to the boy next to him, taking note of his deep-set frown.

_ He’s going to get wrinkles… _

Oikawa’s sigh was strained, his eyebrow twitching as he took in the thoughtful expression on Akaashi’s face. His posture was stiff as he sat back into the worn seat of the cab. “Why am I surprised?” He sniffed and crossed his arms. “I pulled the ten of swords, of course, nothing is gonna be easy while I’m here.”

The noise in Akaashi’s brain silenced at that moment as if some imposing epiphany had sauntered through the metaphorical saloon doors in his mind. He blinked hard, the cogs in his head beginning to turn. “You… did a reading?”

A hum came from beside him. “Last night, it was for the trip.”

_ Shit. _

“The trip?”

“Among other things… yeah.”

Akaashi’s hands found each other without conscious permission as his thoughts began to piece together. The joint on his middle finger throbbed dully when he squeezed it a bit too hard, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

Oikawa was an odd creature with an uncharacteristically long fuse, one that was able to handle the steady piling of issues until he predictably combusted. Akaashi found, however, that the longer the fuse, the more effective the explosion, and that the warning signs were important to notice. 

And now, those subtle warning signs had evolved into the mental blaring of an alarm.

Dark smudges hung heavy under his eyes, and irritable red still tinged the edges of them, Oikawa must not have slept at all last night. Stress. He was currently pouting once more, and his fussiness caused Akaashi’s brows to furrow. When Oikawa was stressed he tended to put the weight on other people, which explained why he had been acting so disagreeable. The realization sunk to the bottom of Akaashi’s stomach.

The final nail in the coffin had been Oikawa’s reading. Tarot was something that Suga had introduced to him, and there had been a solid month where Oikawa was deeply invested in doing readings. It wasn’t something he talked about often, and really, one would only know if they knew him well enough. The deck he bought had been retired to the back of his closet, only to be recommissioned when he felt truly hopeless, when he needed something to set the course and push him in the right direction. 

Oikawa Tooru was a man of action, and very rarely did he believe that things were completely out of his hands. But when he did, not even the wrath of God could sway him.

Akaashi wouldn’t hesitate to admit that he didn’t have a clue about tarot, or any of the card meanings, so the ten of swords meant nothing to him. But he quickly found that, like hockey, he needed to consider learning more about it all for the interest of one person. 

He couldn’t help but think that Suga would be better qualified to deal with this.

“Takeda’s already waiting for us at the hotel,” the brunette’s grumbling was television static in Akaashi’s ears.

He barely registered the slowing of the cab as it pulled through the parkway of the hotel, his body going on auto-pilot as he paid the driver and hauled his luggage behind him. Too many conversations were happening in his head, the words overlapping and repeating until many of the sentences lost their meaning and melded into a clump of indecipherable thought.

The heel of his boot made a curious sound against the polished tile of the hotel lobby, his hair twisting in place as he was assaulted by a gush of warm air upon crossing the threshold. The sharpness of lemon-scented disinfectant and holiday candles made his nose sting. It was a distinct sort of thing that caused nostalgia to tug on his pant leg. It was one of residual nervousness and restless nights, of the anticipation to once again experience the paradoxical consequence of having too much, yet too little time to himself before competing.

It was much too late to come to his senses with what was happening, but Akaashi had been living in a half-aware stupor for nearly a month, and it was at that moment, standing dumbly in the middle of the bustling lobby did he realize that  _ Fuck, I’m about to do this all over again _ . The restlessness, the uncertainty, the attention, not to mention the goddamn  _ jump rope _ .

Akaashi adjusted his grip on the handle of his luggage, knuckles threatening to turn white as he shoved his free hand into his coat pocket. He had competed for so long, and yet every single time was like the first, in the sense that the excitement of it all had long since staled but the worry remained constant. 

It was at times like these that he questioned his own motivation for putting himself through this, but Bokuto’s words from last night had pulled him out of his head. The chilled yellow of the park was still fresh in his memory, the watered-down coffee, the unforgiving stiffness in his spine from sitting in the cramped space, but most important was the honest (almost effortless) encouragement coming from the boy across from him. Warmth spread briefly through his chest, not giving much respite to the nerves that caused his fingertips to twitch, but it was enough to put him in motion again. 

He was a few steps behind Oikawa as they scuttled toward the front counter, where a familiar mop of untamed curls bobbed about. Takeda looked no more stressed than usual, having to keep track of two pair skaters that were notorious for attracting trouble, and consulting with the overworked receptionist about getting the card to their rooms.

A hand shot into his field of vision before he could get any closer to his coach. “Hey, Akaashi!”

His boot squeaked against the floor with an abrupt stop; he had been zoning out yet again. Hinata had quite literally jumped in front of him in all his eagerness to greet the raven-haired figure skater. A large smile pulled at the apples of his cheeks, and the cold had caused the tip of his nose to become stained a flushed pink. Akaashi’s eyes pinballed over the freckles that peppered the entirety of his face before his brain decided to manufacture a simple “hello”.

“Did you see all the huge buildings on the way over here?” Hinata’s tiny body was practically vibrating. Was he cold? Should he give him Bokuto’s coat? Akaashi once read that small dogs needed to shake often in order to generate more body heat, could it be a similar case?

“Of course he did, dumbass,” Kageyama grumbled as he turned to face the redhead. His hair stuck up at odd ends on his left side, and sleep still clung to his posture. “Unlike you he’s pretty observant.”

Like water off a duck’s back, Kageyama’s words were. Hinata wasn’t the least bit fazed. “But aren’t they cool!? I’ve never seen any skyscrapers before, imagine standing on top of one, I bet you could see everything up there! Probably even our houses, huh?”

“Uhm…” Akaashi didn’t exactly want to introduce Hinata to reality just yet, it almost felt morally wrong to try to correct him, similar to telling kids about Santa.

“Oh yeah, totally!” Oikawa chirped from beside him, the material of his windbreaker brushing awkwardly against his ear as he propped an arm on Akaashi’s shoulder.

A simple sidestep away from the brunette and Akaashi was left rolling his newly freed shoulder with quiet satisfaction. He was content to leave Hinata in Oikawa’s care, it was an unexpected turn of events but the two got along decently well. Taking his usual position of the spectator, Akaashi watched as Hinata jumped idly on the balls of his feet, his sneakers creating obnoxious sounds against the polished floor.

He supposed he couldn’t blame the younger boy for his excitement. It was easy for Akaashi to forget that it was the pair skaters’ first year competing, they had cemented their place in the little group that Suga’s rink had accumulated, almost as though they had always been there. The sectionals competition was when Takeda would treat them to the hotel that was mere blocks away from the rink. 

It wasn’t a modest establishment by any means. Chandeliers hung over them in the spacious lobby, with mirrors glaring down at them from their places on the cathedral ceiling. Very few people bothered to stop and stare like he initially had, the hotel was often used for business conventions, and the usual clientele donned suits more expensive than Akaashi would ever manage to wear. He always felt like a sore thumb there, and it only added to the thoughts that snowballed in his head.

After a few more minutes of confirmation with the front desk, their jumbling group of five ended up piled into the elevator together. Takeda looked more than ready to take a nap, and for that Akaashi could sympathize. Who knew that so many people would be traveling this time of year?

The elevator jolted to a stop at their floor, and it dislodged a rather sleepy Kageyama from his place in the corner. He ended up jostling into Akaashi’s arm, and with red ears and a stuttered apology, the shorter boy shot away from him. The doors slid open while Hinata struggled to get control over his loud guffaws.

He had never really thought about it in-depth, but really, Hinata  _ was _ a fun-sized Bokuto.

The key card cut an imprint in Akaashi’s palm as he tightened his grip on it. Oikawa’s whining had yet to register in his ears, but it went without question that the brunette wasn’t happy about not being entrusted with their room’s key.

“I don’t see the point,” he huffed as they padded down the carpet of the hallway. “It’s not like you’re gonna need it. You never go out anyway.”

A headache threatened to form and at that point, Akaashi was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. “Not this again, please.”

“I’m serious! What’s the point of coming all this way and not going out to look around?” Oikawa would’ve raised his arms to make a point if he weren’t currently occupied carrying his bags. 

“Wow. It’s almost like we’re actually here for a reason.”

“Besides competing, smartass. There’s so much here. Did you know the tallest building we have back home is three stories? And it’s a bank!”

Akaashi began to slow his pace as he checked the room numbers for the one that matched on his card. “I don’t really care.”

_ Why do banks need so much office space, anyway? _ The voice in his head sounded oddly like Bokuto’s.

_ Does it matter? _

He only hummed at the pointless internal dialogue, his eyes flicking up to where a door down the hall swung open. Uninterested by the dull sequence of events he returned to the task of finding their room. He’d never ask for help, but it was a bit more difficult than he thought it would be. It wasn’t until Akaashi heard Oikawa take in a breath behind him did he think to look back up.

Akaashi Keiji should never take part in a lottery. Because he had to have had the worst luck in the world.

In retrospect, it made sense that other figure skaters would stay at the hotel. It was just a short walk away from the competition center. But that didn’t change the fact that Sakusa had just popped out of a room that, coincidentally, sat across from their own. 

The three stopped, and if Akaashi’s nervous system hadn’t shut down under the scrutinizing glare of Sakusa  _ fucking _ Kiyoomi, he likely would’ve found the mental image of them in a Mexican standoff quite entertaining.

But he didn’t have the capacity to think about it.

Oikawa shot first. Like he always did. “Sakusa, what a surprise! It’s nice to see you.”

The thought of how easily Oikawa could slip into the role of a passive-aggressive suburban housewife rattled around the empty space where Akaashi swore his brain once was. It was almost startling how naturally he was able to tack on a gleaming smile.

The tallest of the three only gave a curt nod, and as if an afterthought, a strained “hello” through the material of his mask. There was no attempt to entertain Oikawa’s invitation to talk as Sakusa strode toward the elevator, and for that, Akaashi was grateful. Oikawa didn’t share the sentiment.

“Fucking jerk,” was all the brunette muttered as the two slipped into their own room.

Akaashi shrugged while he claimed the bed by the window, setting his luggage at the foot of the mattress. “He just doesn’t like small talk,”

“That doesn’t matter, he can still at least try to be courteous.”

“You’re the last person who should be telling other people about courtesy.”

Oikawa only hummed, it was the closest he would get to admitting defeat and Akaashi would graciously accept the breadcrumbs given to him.

“It’s just- people like him really tick me off.” the other boy said as he rifled through one of his bags. So much for all the neat folding.

“You mean... quiet?”

“Yes,” Oikawa growled. “You can never tell what people like him are thinking. I hate it.”

Akaashi leaned against the windowsill, his eyes scanning the street in front of him. For being eighteen stories up, there wasn’t much to see, but he was sure Hinata would still enjoy it. “Oh?”

“You’re the exception, you’re like one of those magazines by the checkout lane of a grocery store: easy to read once you can look past all the rambling bullshit.”

He turned to look over his shoulder at the other boy, one eyebrow raised in half-hearted confusion. “Should I be offended at that?”

Oikawa fished out a powder blue shirt, the material loose in his hands. “A little.”

Akaashi watched with disinterest as the other figure skater started to change out of his leggings and sweatshirt into something decidedly less comfortable. Oikawa had long since found that blue suited him. He took this fact and ran with it.

“Going somewhere?” Akaashi asked as he settled against the absurd amount of pillows on his bed.

“Of course. Some of us aren’t hermits, you know.”

“So I’ve been told,”

Oikawa huffed at the lazy indignation of the other boy, styling his hair in one of the mirrors before adjusting the collar of his overcoat one last time. “We’re in the city. There are attractive people here, and they’ve got more money than me. I’m gonna flirt and see what happens.”

“Are you practicing to be a sugar baby?”

“Who said anything about practicing?” Oikawa said with a wink. Akaashi rolled his eyes.

“Does Coach Takeda know you’re going out to look for someone to pay your college tuition?”

“As long as I’m back in time for dinner, I’m sure he won’t care.”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

Deceivingly warm brown eyes caught Akaashi’s in the reflection of the mirror. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

His phone vibrated from inside his -not his- coat pocket. Bokuto must’ve gotten out of class by now. “I’m not covering for you,”

“Never asked you to,” Oikawa sang as he pocketed his own phone and sauntered to the door, key card in hand. “But I know you will anyway.”

Akaashi didn’t look up to the sound of the door closing, instead resigning himself to look at his newest notifications. After sending a short reply to Bokuto’s text, reminding him that, while his English class is easy, he should still pay attention, Akaashi’s eyes were drawn to an older message from Suga.

It was the one he had failed to reply to earlier that day, and he wanted to smack himself for his negligence because there, written in fine print was a text from the older boy warning Akaashi that Oikawa had done a tarot reading last night. They both knew what it meant, and it was his way of telling Akaashi to keep an eye on him.

_ So much for that. _ Akaashi sighed at the door, the sound of the lock clicking behind Oikawa still ringing in his ears.

He mentally added “compulsive behavior” to the list of warning signs. 

It didn’t take much for Akaashi to figure out the reason behind all of this. As much as he may have wanted people to believe otherwise, Oikawa was still reeling from what happened at the hockey game. Akaashi couldn’t much blame him for it either, because while trying to navigate the brunette’s thoughts was like being thrown in the middle of the ocean without so much as a compass, it was only common sense that he’d be upset. After all, Akaashi didn’t want to think about how he would feel if he saw Bokuto kiss a girl after the game.

The mere idea left something inside his chest throbbing in a warning.

But something else must’ve happened, he realized. They talked after the game, presumably alone, so was it safe to assume that it didn’t go well? 

_ Of course it didn’t go well, this is Oikawa we’re talking about. _

Akaashi’s eyelids started to feel heavy as he opened up the search engine on his phone. He promised himself a nap, but curiosity nipped at his heels like an overeager puppy…

Five minutes later he fell asleep with his phone open on the search results for a tarot card guide.

Naps were a fickle thing.

They were a fickle thing and yet they were also a siren’s call for someone like Akaashi. It was the general concept of a few blissful hours away from reality that snagged him hook line and sinker. Waking up, though, really was a gamble. It either left him in a hazy state for the next half hour or made him feel like he had just gotten trampled by a mob. Very rarely did he come out of a nap feeling refreshed.

The result this time around was extremely obvious when Akaashi’s eyes slid open just a little too reluctantly. The air felt thick, and warm, honeyed light streamed through the window of the hotel room. Akaashi sat up, feeling drugged and just sweaty enough to want to change out of his shirt.

There was a solid twenty seconds where Akaashi sat hunched over, trying to piece together just why he had woken up, until his ears were able to fully register the annoyed buzzing of his phone. His face pulled into a weak grimace as he saw who was trying to call him. Swiping the decline button, Akaashi flopped back against the mattress until his phone buzzed once more.

He didn’t need to look at it to know who it was from. But he did anyway. The screen showed a text from an unknown number that Akaashi knew very much. He was starting to second guess his decision to not add Oikawa in as a contact, because now, after all those years, he knew the brunette’s phone number better than his own.

Akaashi sat back up with a groan. Oikawa wanted him to get ready for dinner, he was currently waiting for him in the lobby and he didn’t have much patience. 

He was squeezing through the doors of the elevator nearly fifteen minutes later, picking Oikawa out from the steady flow of people that flitted through the lobby. He was still rubbing the tiredness from his eyes when the other boy whistled low at the sight of him.

“Jeez, did you just wake up or something?” Oikawa asked, amusement causing him to tilt his head innocently.

“Has anyone ever told you how funny you are?” 

“Why yes, yes they have,”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. “They were lying.”

Oikawa kissed his teeth. “If only people knew just how rude you really are,”

“I’m only like this to you.”

“Oh,” the two walked toward the hotel’s restaurant. “So I must be pretty special to you, huh?”

“If that’s how you want to see it.”

Akaashi was yawning when they walked through the doors of the dining room. Despite the overwhelming arrangement with all the tables, it was a spacious area with dimmed lighting and high ceilings. The tinkling notes of a piano echoed off the walls, and the heels of their shoes made solid noises against the treated wood flooring.

Shuffling out of the way of a couple as they left, Akaashi realized how out of place he was. Everyone surrounding him was fitted in formal attire, sparkling dresses catching the lights overhead and dark suits contrasting with the crisp white of tablecloths. He looked down, tugging on the sleeve ends of his sweater. Would people stare at him? It was obvious he wasn’t someone accustomed to places such as this.

“Found them,” Oikawa muttered, grabbing Akaashi’s hand before he could nervously tug at his fingers again.

He followed the brunette through the twisting maze of people and tables, dodging the waiters as they sped past. As he looked out at the crowd, Akaashi recognized a lot more figure skaters than he would’ve liked to. There were too many people here, he really should’ve pushed for room service and called it a night. 

Why didn’t he? Damn his sleep-addled brain for being too compliant.

“Hey guys!” Hinata’s voice snapped Akaashi out of his thoughts like a bucket of cold water.

Oikawa was quick to return the enthusiasm. “Hey, Shrimpy!”

Akaashi only gave a polite nod in greeting while he sat, his back digging into the suede padding of his chair. Beneath the fabric of the tablecloth, he picked absently at his fingers. He felt a bit too exposed to get comfortable.

“What’s wrong Tobio, you look constipated.” the sweet notes in Oikawa’s voice made Akaashi’s teeth hurt.

“Nothing,” the black-haired pair skater was quick to answer, and it left Hinata blinking owlishly at him. “I’m fine.”

Akaashi fought the urge to sigh, of course, Oikawa couldn’t leave well enough alone. Suga was right all along, whenever the brunette was stressed he liked to pick on Kageyama. Looks like Akaashi was babysitting once again tonight.

“Where’s coach Takeda?” he asked, (not so) lightly tapping Oikawa’s foot from under the table to pull his attention away from the younger boy.

“He left earlier, something about a migraine,” Kageyama said, reaching for his drink… wait, was that milk?

Akaashi shook his head, determined not to focus on the… admittedly odd choice of drink. After all, it was healthier than the soda Hinata was currently chugging. Perhaps he should cut the redhead off after this glass, Akaashi didn’t want to risk a sugar rush, whether it was a real thing or not, he wasn’t intent on finding out. 

And that was how Akaashi busied himself over dinner: by keeping Oikawa in line, Hinata away from excessive sugar, and Kageyama… content with his milk. The boy was pretty low-maintenance if you asked Akaashi, which was fine with him, seeing as though the former of the two took up most of his attention.

His nervousness began to wane as their plates were collected, and for a few moments, he began to wonder why he was so uncomfortable in the first place. It was just dinner, so what if there were people? The world was filled with them, and running into a few here and there was bound to happen, right?

“Is that  _ Oikawa Tooru _ , I see?”

The spark of optimism in Akaashi’s chest had been effectively stamped out.

Hinata and Kageyama had just left to retire to their room for the night, and the only thing that kept Akaashi in his chair was the promise of the french macarons that he ordered in a box to eat later. He could wait, and it would be worth it because he and Bokuto had talked about them last night and he promised to give the hockey captain the run-down after trying them.

“Teru! So good to see you again!”

The chair where Kageyama had sat -the chair next to Akaashi- was pulled out and soon reoccupied by a boy that looked to be his age. Like Akaashi, he wore clothing not suitable for the environment they currently found themselves in, except this boy was obviously much more comfortable there than he was. He was leaned against the table, chin propped up by his fist. Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed, how could he act so casual, didn’t he know how much of a sore thumb he was? Did he not care?

His hair looked as though it were dyed blond, and the darker color of his undercut matched his eyes. They were sharp and focused directly on him so intensely that Akaashi would believe that the boy was trying to look through him.

“Oikawa, who’s your friend?”

Akaashi stiffened in his seat. Something about this boy made him uncomfortable, like he was being examined naked under a microscope. He pulled tightly at his pointer finger, he didn’t sign up for this, all he wanted were his macarons.

“This is Akaashi,” Oikawa hesitated, looking right through the cracks in his expression. “Akaashi, this is Terushima. He’ll be competing in our division tomorrow.”

Terushima’s eyes made a slow sweep over Akaashi, and the latter found himself holding in a breath. He fought against the urge to let his discomfort show, he only had to sit around for a few more minutes, he could act civil.

“It’s nice to meet you, ‘Gaashi.” the blond flashed a loose smile, and if Akaashi cared enough to notice, he would’ve seen the subtle glint of metal on Terushima’s tongue.

His eyebrow twitched above the frame of his glasses. “It’s Akaashi. And it’s nice to meet you as well.” Terushima’s words rang sourly in his ears.

Across the wide plane of the table, Oikawa’s expression stretched into something unreadable, as if he were watching an animal documentary, and a predator had just arrived at the scene. Akaashi shifted in his chair to bounce his leg, was he about to get mauled?

“So you skate?” Terushima asked, waiting for the raven-haired boy to give a sharp nod. “You look like you’d be really good at it,” -Akaashi didn’t miss the way his eyes had darted to his legs- “You should show me sometime.”

“Why? You’ll see me skate tomorrow.” His voice was flat in his ears, and Akaashi was pretty sure he saw Oikawa push down a laugh out of the corner of his eye.

“Jeez Teru,” Oikawa set his drink back down on the table with a barely audible noise. “If you’re gonna flirt with my friend, at least be good at it.”

“ _ Whaat _ ? I can’t help it if your friend is hot.”

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed from behind the lenses of his glasses. Where the fuck were his macarons.

“Am I not good enough for you?” Oikawa threw his friend a playful look.

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” Akaashi wanted to shrivel up from the tone set in Terushima’s voice. “You always are, but ‘Gaashi here-”

“ _ Akaashi _ .” he corrected. He was still being civil, right?

The blond next to him simply chuckled as if Akaashi’s dwindling patience was nothing but endearing. A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth in response.

“Can I get your number?” Terushima asked, leaning into his palm that propped against the table. 

“I don’t see why you’d need it.” Akaashi’s eyes slid to Oikawa, who observed the interaction almost curiously. He set his mouth into a grim line, relenting and letting a hand push through his hair. Terushima tracked the movement.

“Because I’d like to talk to you more. I like your hair, by the way, you should let it grow out, you’d look great with a ponytail.” Akaashi nearly jerked out of his chair when Terushima reached a hand to brush a stray curl behind his ear, letting his fingers trail to where his hair was beginning to grow longer. “Guys with long hair are super pretty.”

Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron. He wasn’t pretty. He’s never been pretty and he’s never been in a situation like this. How was he supposed to react? Dull blue flicked over to where Oikawa sat, nonverbally screaming for direction.

“Teru, he’s too good for you, stop.” He sounded more amused than anything.

“Aww come on, do you at least have any social media?”

_ No macaron is worth this, sorry Bokuto. _

Akaashi prayed he didn’t look as frantic as he felt when he pushed his chair away from the table. “You know, uhm- I should get going. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

He didn’t remember the walk up to his room. If he really thought about it, he remembered the soft noises of the elevator, maybe even the smell of it, but he couldn’t recall leaving the restaurant, or crossing the lobby, or the hallway. All Akaashi knew was that he felt uncomfortable in his own skin, and he wanted nothing more than to scrub it off entirely.

Well, that obviously wasn’t an option.

He opted for second-best.

The bathroom was hazy with steam when he pulled the shower curtain back. He wasn’t sure how long he had stood under the water, but when he reached for the towel his fingers were pruned and his skin was an angry red. The air felt too thick to breathe, and the sound of the vent was distant in his ears.

_ He was just flirting, why did you have to react like that. _

Akaashi grimaced.  _ I don’t know. _

Thoughts slipped like water through Akaashi’s fingers, they were trembling, he noticed. He couldn’t hold water in shaking hands, and coherent fragments of thought began to overfill and stream through the gaps, falling into a space where he couldn’t reach. It was frustrating, he couldn’t focus on one thing, nor could he keep up with the newest thoughts that dripped into his outstretched hands.

The competition was tomorrow, had he practiced enough? Or was he too busy joking around with Bokuto for a whole month? God, he was so irresponsible- it wasn’t as if the date came out of  _ nowhere _ . He wasn’t going to place, and he couldn’t get mad at himself for it, it was his own doing. He was going to fail tomorrow and-

And he’d break the promise he made Bokuto. Because there was no way-

_ Why would he expect anything of you anyway? It was all out of pity, dumbass. _

Right. Because why would Bokuto believe in him like that? Akaashi had never given him a reason to. The hockey captain was just too nice to say anything. Fuck, it was out of pity, of course it was.

Akaashi didn’t realize he was crying until he met his eyes in the mirror.

_ Pathetic. _

_ At least you’re  _ pretty _ , huh. _

His face screwed itself up into a scowl.  _ Pretty.  _ It made something in Akaashi’s stomach lurch. The tip of his left ear burned with the phantom warmth of Terushima’s hand from when he had brushed away Akaashi’s hair. 

He wasn’t pretty.

Nothing this unstable, this irresponsible, this  _ pathetic _ could be called pretty.

Dull blue trailed the side of his face in his reflection, stopping where his hair peeked out under his ear, where the inky waves began to curl- where Terushima’s hand lingered.

He wasn’t pretty.

His eyes flicked down to the familiar-looking cosmetics bag that sat in the corner of the bathroom counter. It was Oikawa’s, filled with toiletries and the makeup that the brunette had brought with him. He never cared for its contents, but there, catching on the zipper of the bag was a pair of scissors Oikawa had for emergencies.

Akaashi’s hands shook as the first clump of hair fell around his ankles, curling dejectedly on the floor. He worked to steady his breathing, to focus on the sound of the scissors as they cut into the individual strands of hair. It was almost therapeutic, the subtle light feeling on the back of his neck felt exaggerated at the moment, but he couldn’t help but revel in it. 

It wasn’t a logical approach, some part of him knew this. There were better ways to go about it, to quell the overwhelming feelings that had consumed him, but he found that he couldn’t care less. It was a quick and nonsensical fix, but it was what he needed.

When he leaned back to fully look at his reflection once more, Akaashi looked… lighter. The lack of weight pulling on his hair made it stick up more than it had previously. It was choppy and uneven, with some areas of his hair left longer than others. It wasn’t good by any means, but he felt different looking at himself in the foggy bathroom mirror. 

He almost felt... pretty.

The metal handle of the scissors clinked against the porcelain counter when he finally put them down. His head felt a little clearer, his hands had stopped shaking- and that was good enough for now. Anxiety still brewed in his gut, but Akaashi didn’t have the energy left to care. He cleaned up as much as he could before flooding the bathroom with the cold air of the hotel room when he opened the door.

Oikawa was back, as evident by the soft noises coming from the TV. Akaashi rubbed at the goosebumps that rose on his arms and went to his bag to pull out a jacket, his t-shirt did little against the cold.

“Hey…” Oikawa’s voice was soft from his perch on the bed across the room.

“Hi,”

“I’m sorry about what happened, I didn’t know Terushima was gonna act like that.”

Exhaustion kept Akaashi rooted in place. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, that’s the point. I didn’t tell him to stop even though I knew he was making you uncomfortable. I just- kinda hoped you’d stand up for yourself, I guess.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s-” Silence filled the room as the seconds stretched on. It was uncanny, as if Oikawa had lost his voice mid-sentence. And then: “Did you- what did you do to  _ your hair _ ?”

Akaashi peeked over his shoulder. “Cut it?”

“With what, a  _ chainsaw _ ? Keiji, what the hell?”

He turned to see the other boy sitting up in his bed, disbelief marring his features. “No, with your scissors.”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

Akaashi frowned. 

Oikawa sighed. “Okay, hold on.”

He watched as the brunette padded into the bathroom, reappearing a minute later with his scissors and a towel. With some difficulty, he dragged the desk chair to the foot of his bed, on top of the towel. Oikawa patted the seat of the chair. “C’mere.”

Akaashi had known Oikawa for years, and it was rare that he offered a truce such as this. He was an odd creature, for sure, prodding and flaunting and pestering, but he was hardly as quiet as he was now, eyes sharpened with concentration as his fingers teased the ruined ends of Akaashi hair. It felt oddly intimate, to be sitting together in near-silence as Oikawa carefully snipped away, but Akaashi was grateful for it, because it was a side of him that few got to see.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa murmured, straightening a few strands of hair before measuring where to cut.

“It’s okay,”

“No, no it's not. You’re not this impulsive. He must’ve really stressed you out.”

Akaashi huffed lightly. “I’m not a child. I’m fine.”

The other boy only hummed, taking a moment to run a hand through Akaashi’s hair to see his process. He made a pleased noise and continued working around his ears. “Sure.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, debating his words, if it was worth it to bring it up. It probably wasn’t, but Akaashi had never been especially good with social skills. “I’m sorry for being so rude to you today.”

Oikawa only made a confused noise.

“You’re stressed, everyone can tell. And I’m sure I haven’t been helping.”

A soft puff of laughter hit the back of Akaashi’s neck, he absently noted that he wouldn’t have been able to feel it before he cut his hair.

“‘Kaash, I don’t mind that you’ve been rude to me.” amusement infected Oikawa’s words, to the point where it sounded like he was holding back a small chuckle. “I think it’s kinda funny, honestly. You’re so uptight all the time, so when you act like that, I know that you’re just being you. You’re just speaking your mind.”

“...Really?” Akaashi was unconvinced.

“Really.”

Oikawa didn’t give the silence that followed enough time to sink into the room. “Kageyama really looks up to you. You know that, right?”

Confusion flitted across the other boy’s features. “What?”

“That’s why he acts like that. It’s really obvious too- just makes it easier for me to pick on him.” This time, he let a chuckle escape as he mused to himself. “What an idiot.”

Akaashi let the words sink in. It wasn’t something he had ever stopped to think about, and he didn’t know what to do with the information now that he had it.

Across the room, his phone vibrated with a new text notification.

“Bokuto?” Oikawa asked, not pausing to trim about an inch off a particular clump of hair that stuck out at an odd angle. 

“Probably.”

“What do you think of him?”

“He’s a good person.”

“Nice try. You know that’s not what I meant.”

He frowned. “Oikawa,” 

“‘Kaashi,”

Sighing, he took a moment to shift in his chair ever so slightly, mindful of the scissors near his cheek. “He’s a great person and I…”

“Go on,”

“I think I like him.” his throat felt tight. It was the first time he admitted it out loud, much less to another person.

Oikawa merely snorted. “You  _ think _ .” He took a moment to take a careful snip off of a few strands of hair over Akaashi’s eyebrow. “It must be nice though. Having someone like that.”

Something is Akaashi’s chest felt odd.  _ Iwaizumi _ . “So you and Iwaizumi...?”

“There’s nothing good happening, I can tell you that much.” he took a moment to swallow, his voice sounded strained and oddly vulnerable, barely above a whisper. “He hates me, ‘Kaashi.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’ve… done some pretty bad things. I uh- I kissed him, that day, after the game.”

Akaashi sat up a little straighter. “What?”

Oikawa’s laugh was soft and incredibly bitter. “Yeah. I went to talk to him in the locker room and I just… he hates me.”

“Oikawa…”

The brunette cleared his throat, effectively closing the curtain and Akaashi had managed to peek past for a split second. “It’s fine though. I don’t need pity, it's my problem. You’ve got your own boy to worry about, and he follows you around like a puppy, it's kinda funny to watch.”

“Did you just refer to Bokuto as a dog?”

_ Did I just get mildly offended by that? _

“In only the nicest ways of course.” the teasing smile in Oikawa’s voice was audible. He made one more decisive cut near the back of Akaashi’s head and stepped back with a flourish. “Finished! How do you like it?”

Akaashi shuffled over to the mirror that was bolted above the dresser. He looked…  _ good _ . He’d never admit it for the fear of overinflating Oikawa’s ego, but he was a man of many talents. Add hairstylist to the list. It was obviously shorter, but Akaashi could still run a hand through the waves, and could still mess with it when he got restless. Without the weight, it once held, his hair ended up poofing out at the sides, no different than how Akaashi left it, however this time it was  _ symmetrical _ , and dare he say it, neater.

A smile grew on his face as he caught Oikawa’s hopeful reflection in the mirror. “You did a good job,”

Oikawa grew a smirk of his own. “It couldn’t get any worse than whatever the hell you did. Now enough heart-to-heart, come watch this compilation video of kids falling. It’s hilarious.”

Akaashi frowned but followed to look over Oikawa’s phone screen nonetheless. “This is why children are afraid of you.”

“Good. They should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like the idea of akaashi and oikawa being really close friends,, it'd be a weird friendship for sure but i think that in a way they'd just click,, y'know?

**Author's Note:**

> i'm making a playlist for this fic because i try too hard :,)
> 
> anywaysies if you want, you can listen to it   
> [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Pm1en45kR3MCPONPeJjGU)


End file.
